FANNY GOES TO WAR

BY PAT BEAUCHAMP(FIRST AID NURSING YEOMANRY)

WITH AN INTRODUCTION BYMAJOR-GENERAL H. N. THOMPSON, K. C. M. G, C. B. , D. S. O

LONDONJOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET, W. 1919

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

To T. H. 

INTRODUCTION

I eagerly avail myself of the Author's invitation to write a foreword toher book, as it gives me an opportunity of expressing something of theadmiration, of the wonder, of the intense brotherly sympathy andaffection--almost adoration--which has from time to time overwhelmed mewhen witnessing the work of our women during the Great War. 

They have been in situations where, five short years ago, no one wouldever have thought of finding them. They have witnessed and taken activepart in scenes nerve-racking and heart-rending beyond the power ofdescription. Often it has been my duty to watch car-load after car-loadof severely wounded being dumped into the reception marquees of aCasualty Clearing Station. There they would be placed in long rowsawaiting their turn, and there, amid the groans of the wounded and theloud gaspings of the gassed, at the mere approach of a sister therewould be a perceptible change and every conscious eye would brighten aswith a ray of fresh hope. In the resuscitation and moribund marquees, nothing was more pathetic than to see "Sister, " with her notebook, stooping over some dying lad, catching his last messages to his lovedones. 

Women worked amid such scenes for long hours day after day, amid scenesas no mere man could long endure, and yet their nerves held out; it maybe because they were inspired by the nature of their work. I have seenthem, too, continue that work under intermittent shelling and bombing, repeated day after day and night after night, and it was the rarestthing to find one whose nerves gave way. I have seen others rescuewounded from falling houses, and drive their cars boldly into streetswith bricks and debris flying. 

I have also, alas! seen them grievously wounded; and on one occasion, killed, and found their comrades continuing their work in the actualpresence of their dead. 

The free homes of Britain little realise what our war women have beenthrough, or what an undischarged debt is owing to them. 

How few now realise to what a large extent they were responsible for thefighting spirit, for the _morale_, for the tenacity which won the war!The feeling, the knowledge that their women were at hand to succour andto tend them when they fell raised the fighting spirit of the men andmade them brave and confident. 

The above qualities are well exemplified by the conduct and bearing ofour Authoress herself, who, when grievously injured, never lost her heador her consciousness, but through half an hour sat quietly on theroad-side beside the wreck of her car and the mangled remains of herlate companion. Rumour has it that she asked for and smoked acigarette. 

Such heroism in a young girl strongly appealed to the imagination of ourFrench and Belgian Allies, and two rows of medals bedeck her khakijacket. 

Other natural qualities of our race, which largely helped to win thewar, are brought out very vividly, although unconsciously, in this book, _e. G. _ the spirit of cheerfulness; the power to forget danger andhardship; the faculty of seeing the humorous side of things; of makingthe best of things; the spirit of comradeship which sweetened life. 

These qualities were nowhere more evident than among the F. A. N. Y. Their_esprit-de-corps_, their gaiety, their discipline, their smartness anddevotion when duty called were infectious, almost an inspiration tothose who witnessed them. 

Throughout the war the "Fannys" were renowned for their resourcefulness. They were always ready to take on any and every job, from starting up afrozen car to nursing a bad typhoid case, and they rose to the occasionevery time. 

 H. N. THOMPSON, K. C. M. G. , C. B. , D. S. O. , _Major-General_. 

 _Director of Medical Services, British Army of the Rhine. _

 _Assistant Director Medical Services, 2nd Division, 1914; ditto 48th Division, 1915; Deputy-Director Medical Services, VI Corps, May 1915 to July 1917; Director Medical Services, First Army, July 1917 to April 1919. _

CONTENTS

CHAPTER PAGE

 I. IN CAMP BEFORE THE WAR 1

 II. FIRST IMPRESSIONS 11

 III. THE JOURNEY UP TO THE FRONT 19

 IV. BEHIND THE TRENCHES 27

 V. IN THE TRENCHES 35

 VI. THE TYPHOID WARDS 41

 VII. THE ZEPPELIN RAID 49

 VIII. CONCERNING BATHS, "JOLIE-ANNETTE, " "MARIE-MARGOT" AND ST. INGLEVERT 59

 IX. TYPHOIDS AGAIN, AND PARIS IN 1915. 70

 X. CONCERNING A CONCERT, CANTEEN WORK, HOUSEKEEPING, THE ENGLISH CONVOY, AND GOOD-BYE, LAMARCK. 88

 XI. THE ENGLISH CONVOY 111

 XII. THE PASSING OF THE LITTLE LORRY, "OLD BILL" AND "'ERB" AT AUDRICQ 129

 XIII. CONVOY LIFE 152

 XIV. CHRISTMAS, 1916 176

 XV. CONVOY PETS, COMMANDEERING, AND THE "FANTASTIKS" 197

 XVI. THE LAST RIDE 216

 XVII. HOSPITALS: FRANCE AND ENGLAND 240

XVIII. ROEHAMPTON: "BOB" THE GREY, AND THE ARMISTICE 267

 XIX. AFTER TWO YEARS 283

FANNY GOES TO WAR

CHAPTER I

IN CAMP BEFORE THE WAR

The First Aid Nursing Yeomanry was founded in 1910 and now numbersroughly about four hundred voluntary members. 

It was originally intended to supplement the R. A. M. C. In field work, stretcher bearing, ambulance driving, etc. --its duties being more orless embodied in the title. 

An essential point was that each member should be able to ride barebackor otherwise, as much difficulty had been found in transporting nursesfrom one place to another on the veldt in the South African War. Men hadoften died through lack of attention, as the country was too rough topermit of anything but a saddle horse to pass. 

The First Aid Nursing Yeomanry was on active service soon after War wasdeclared and, though it is not universally known, they were the pioneersof all the women's corps subsequently working in France. 

Before they had been out very long they were affectionately known asthe F. A. N. Y. 's, to all and sundry, and in an incredibly short space oftime had units working with the British, French, and Belgian Armies inthe field. 

It was in the Autumn of 1913 that, picking up the _Mirror_ one day, Isaw a snapshot of a girl astride on horseback leaping a fence in a khakiuniform and topee. Underneath was merely the line "Women Yeomanry inCamp, " and nothing more. "That, " said I, pointing out the photo to afriend, "is the sort of show I'd like to belong to: I'm sick of amblinground the Row on a Park hack. It would be a rag to go into camp with alot of other girls. I'm going to write to the _Mirror_ for particularsstraight away. "

I did so; but got no satisfaction at all, as the note accompanying thephoto had been mislaid. However, they did inform me there was such aCorps in existence, but beyond that they could give me no particulars. 

I spent weeks making enquiries on all sides. "Oh, yes, certainly therewas a Girls' Yeomanry Corps. " "Where can I join it?" I would askbreathlessly. "Ah, that I can't say, " would be the invariable reply. 

The more obstacles I met with only made me the more determined topersevere. I went out of my way to ask all sorts of possible andimpossible people on the off-chance that they might know; but it was along time before I could run it to earth. "Deeds not words" seemed to betheir motto. 

One night at a small dance my partner told me he had just joined theSurrey Yeomanry; that brought the subject up once more and I confidedall my troubles to him. Joy of joys! He had actually _seen_ some of theCorps riding in Hounslow Barracks. It was plain sailing from thatmoment, and I hastened to write to the Adjutant of the said Barracks toobtain full particulars. 

Within a few days I received a reply and a week later met the C. O. Ofthe F. A. N. Y. 's, for an interview. 

To my delight I heard the Corps was shortly going into camp, and I wasinvited to go down for a week-end to see how I liked it before Iofficially became a member. When the day arrived my excitement, as Istepped into the train at Waterloo, knew no bounds. Here I was at last_en route_ for the elusive Yeomanry Camp!

Arrived at Brookwood, I chartered an ancient fly and in about twentyminutes or so espied the camp in a field some distance from the roadalong which we were driving. "'Ard up for a job _I_ should say!" said mycabby, nodding jocosely towards the khaki figures working busily in thedistance. I ignored this sally as I dismissed him and set off across thefields with my suit case. 

There was a large mess tent, a store tent, some half dozen or more belltents, a smoky, but serviceable-looking, field kitchen, and at the endof the field were tethered the horses! As I drew nearer, I felt horriblyshy and was glad I had selected my very plainest suit and hat, asseveral pairs of eyes looked up from polishing bits and bridles to scanme from top to toe. 

I was shown into the mess tent, where I was told to wait for the C. O. , and in the meantime made friends with "Castor, " the Corps' bull-dog andmascot, who was lying in a clothes-basket with a bandaged paw as theresult of an argument with a regimental pal at Bisley. 

A sudden diversion was caused by a severe thunderstorm which literallybroke right over the camp. I heard the order ring out "To thehorse-lines!" and watched (through a convenient hole in the canvas)several "troopers" flying helter-skelter down the field. 

To everyone's disappointment, however, those old skins never turned ahair; there was not even the suggestion of a stampede. I cautiouslypushed my suit-case under the mess table in the hope of keeping it dry, for the rain was coming down in torrents, and in places poured throughthe canvas roof in small rivulets. (Even in peace-time comfort in theF. A. N. Y. Camp was at a minimum!)

They all trooped in presently, very wet and jolly, and Lieutenant AshleySmith (McDougal) introduced me as a probable recruit. When the storm wasover she kindly lent me an old uniform, and I was made to feel quite athome by being handed about thirty knives and asked to rub them in theearth to get them clean. The cooks loved new recruits!

Feeling just then was running very high over the Irish question. Ilearnt a contingent had been offered and accepted, in case ofhostilities, and that the C. O. Had even been over to Belfast to arrangeabout stables and housing!

One enthusiast asked me breathlessly (it was Cole-Hamilton) "Which sideare you on?" I'm afraid I knew nothing much about either and shamelesslycountered it by asking, "Which are you?" "Ulster, of course, " shereplied. "I'm with you, " said I, "it's all the same to me so long as I'mthere for the show. "

I thoroughly enjoyed that week-end and, of course, joined the Corps. InJuly of that year we had great fun in the long summer camp at Pirbright. 

Work was varied, sometimes we rode out with the regiments stationed atBisley on their field days and looked after any casualties. (We had ahorse ambulance in those days which followed on these occasions and wasregarded as rather a dud job. ) Other days some were detailed for work atthe camp hospital near by to help the R. A. M. C. Men, others to exercisethe horses, clean the officers' boots and belts, etc. , and, added tothese duties, was all the everyday work of the camp, the grooming andwatering of the horses, etc. Each one groomed her own mount, but in somecases one was shared between two girls. "Grooming time is the only timewhen I appreciate having half a horse, " one of these remarked cheerilyto me. That hissing noise so beloved of grooms is extraordinarily hardto acquire--personally, I needed all the breath I had to cope at all!

The afternoons were spent doing stretcher drill: having lectures onFirst Aid and Nursing from a R. A. M. C. Sergeant-Major, and, when it wasvery hot, enjoying a splash in the tarpaulin-lined swimming bath thesoldiers had kindly made for us. Rides usually took place in theevenings, and when bedtime came the weary troopers were only too readyto turn in! Our beds were on the floor and of the "biscuit" variety, being three square _paillasse_ arrangements looking like giantreproductions of the now too well known army "tooth breakers. " We hadbrown army blankets, and it was no uncommon thing to find black earthbeetles and earwigs crawling among them! After months of active servicethese details appear small, but in the summer of 1914 they were realterrors. Before leaving the tents in the morning each "biscuit" had tobe neatly piled on the other and all the blankets folded, and then wehad to sally forth to learn the orders of the day, who was to be orderlyto our two officers, who was to water the horses, etc. , etc. , and by thetime it was eight a. M. We had already done a hard day's work. 

One particular day stands out in my memory as being a speciallystrenuous one. The morning's work was over, and the afternoon was setaside for practising for the yearly sports. The rescue race was by farthe most thrilling, its object being to save anyone from the enemy whohad been left on the field without means of transport. There was a gooddeal of discussion as to who were to be the rescued and who therescuers. Sergeant Wicks explained to all and sundry that her horseobjected strongly to anyone sitting on its tail and that it alwaysbucked on these occasions. No one seemed particularly anxious to besaved on that steed, and my heart sank as her eye alighted on me. Beinga new member I felt it was probably a test, and when the inevitablequestion was asked I murmured faintly I'd be delighted. I made my way tothe far end of the field with the others fervently hoping I shouldn'tland on my head. 

At a given command the rescuers galloped up, wheeled round, and, slipping the near foot from the stirrup, left it for the rescued to jumpup by. I was soon up and sitting directly behind the saddle with onefoot in the stirrup and a hand in Sergeant Wicks' belt. (Those of youwho know how slight she is can imagine my feeling of security!) Off weset with every hope of reaching the post first, and I was just settlingdown to enjoy myself when going over a little dip in the field twoterrific bucks landed us high in the air! Luckily I fell "soft, " but asI picked myself up I couldn't help wondering whether in some casesfalling into the enemy's hand might not be the lesser evil! I spent thenext ten minutes catching the "Bronco!" After that, we retired to ourmess for tea, on the old Union Jack, very ready for it after ourefforts. 

We had just turned in that night and drawn up the army blankets, excessively scratchy they were too, when the bugle sounded for everyoneto turn out. (This was rather a favourite stunt of the C. O. 's. ) Luckilyit was a bright moonlight night, and we learnt we were to make for acertain hill, beyond Bisley, carrying with us stretchers and a tent foran advanced dressing station. Subdued groans greeted this piece of news, but we were soon lined up in groups of four--two in front, two behind, and with two stretchers between the four. These were carried on ourshoulders for a certain distance, and at the command "Changestretchers!" they were slipped down by our sides. This stunt had to beexecuted very neatly and with precision, and woe betide anyone whobungled it. It was ten o'clock when we reached Bisley Camp, and Iremember to this day the surprised look on the sentry's face, in themoonlight, as we marched through. It was always a continual source ofwonderment to them that girls should do anything so much like hard workfor so-called amusement. That march seemed interminable--but singing andwhistling as we went along helped us tremendously. Little did we thinkhow this training would stand us in good stead during the long days onactive service that followed. At last a halt was called, and luckily atthis point there was a nice dry ditch into which we quickly flopped withour backs to the hedge and our feet on the road. It made an idealarmchair!

We resumed the march, and striking off the road came to a rough clearingwhere the tent was already being erected by an advance party. We werelined up and divided into groups, some as stretcher bearers, some as"wounded, " some as nurses to help the "doctor, " etc. The wounded weregiven slips of paper, on which their particular "wound" was described, and told to go off and make themselves scarce, till they were found andcarried in (a coveted job). When they had selected nice soft dry spotsthey lay down and had a quiet well-earned nap until the stretcherbearers discovered them. Occasionally they were hard to find, and apanting bearer would call out "I say, wounded, _give_ a groan!" and theywere located. First Aid bandages were applied to the "wound" and, ifnecessary, impromptu splints made from the trees near by. The patientwas then placed on the stretcher and taken back to the "dressingstation. " "I'm slipping off the stretcher at this angle, " she wouldoccasionally complain. "Shut up, " the panting stretcher bearers wouldreply, "you're unconscious!"

When all were brought in, places were changed, and the stretcher bearersbecame the wounded and vice versa. We got rather tired of this pastimeabout 12. 30 but there was still another wounded to be brought in. Shehad chosen the bottom of a heathery slope and took some finding. It wasthe C. O. She feigned delirium and threw her arms about in a wild manner. The poor bearers were feeling too exhausted to appreciate this piece ofacting, and heather is extremely slippery stuff. When we had struggledback with her the soi-disant doctor asked for the diagnosis. "Drunk anddisorderly, " replied one of them, stepping smartly forward and saluting!This somewhat broke up the proceedings, and _lèse majesté_ was excusedon the grounds that it was too dark to recognise it was the C. O. Thetent pegs were pulled up and the tent pulled down and we all thankfullytramped back to camp to sleep the sleep of the just till the reveillesounded to herald another day. 

CHAPTER II

FIRST IMPRESSIONS

The last Chapter was devoted to the F. A. N. Y. 's in camp before the War, but from now onwards will be chronicled facts that befell them on activeservice. 

When war broke out in August 1914 Lieutenant Ashley Smith lost no timein offering the Corps' services to the War Office. To our intensedisappointment these were refused. However, F. A. N. Y. 's are not easilydaunted. The Belgian Army, at that time, had no organised medical corpsin the field, and informed us they would be extremely grateful if wewould take over a Hospital for them. Lieutenant Smith left for Antwerpin September 1914, and had arranged to take a house there for a Hospitalwhen the town fell; her flight to Ghent where she stayed to the lastwith a dying English officer, until the Germans arrived, and hersubsequent escape to Holland have been told elsewhere. (_A F. A. N. Y. InFrance--Nursing Adventures. _) Suffice it to say we were delighted to seeher safely back among us again in October; and on the last day of thatmonth the first contingent of F. A. N. Y. 's left for active service, hardlyany of them over twenty-one. 

I was unfortunately not able to join them until January 1915; and neverdid time drag so slowly as in those intervening months. I spent the timein attending lectures and hospital, driving a car and generally pickingup every bit of useful information I could. The day arrived at last andColey and I were, with the exception of the Queen of the Belgians(travelling incognito) and her lady-in-waiting, the only women on board. 

The Hospital we had given us was for Belgian Tommies, and calledLamarck, and had been a Convent school before the War. There were fiftybeds for "_blessés_" and fifty for typhoid patients, which at thatperiod no other Hospital in the place would take. It was an extremelyvirulent type of pneumonic typhoid. These cases were in a building apartfrom the main Hospital and across the yard. Dominating both buildingswas the cathedral of Notre Dame, with its beautiful East window facingour yard. 

The top floor of the main building was a priceless room and reserved forus. Curtained off at the far end were the beds of the chauffeurs who hadto sleep on the premises while the rest were billeted in the town; theother end resolved itself into a big untidy, but oh so jolly, sittingroom. Packing cases were made into seats and piles of extra blanketswere covered and made into "tumpties, " while round the stove stood theinterminable clothes horses airing the shirts and sheets, etc. , whichLieutenant Franklin brooded over with a watchful eye! It was in thisroom we all congregated at ten o'clock every morning for twenty preciousminutes during which we had tea and biscuits, read our letters, swankedto other wards about the bad cases we had got in, and generally talkedshop and gossiped. There was an advanced dressing station at Oostkerkewhere three of the girls worked in turn, and we also took turns to go upto the trenches on the Yser at night, with fresh clothes for the men andbandages and dressings for those who had been wounded. 

At one time we were billeted in a fresh house every three nights which, as the reader may imagine in those "moving" times, had itsdisadvantages. After a time, as a great favour, an empty shop wasallowed us as a permanency. It rejoiced in the name of "Le Bon Génie"and was at the corner of a street, the shop window extending along thetwo sides. It was this "shop window" we used as a dormitory, afterpasting the lower panes with brown paper. When they first heard at homethat we "slept in a shop window" they were mildly startled. We were soshort of beds that the night nurses tumbled into ours as soon as theywere vacated in the morning, so there was never much fear of sufferingfrom a damp one. 

Our patients were soldiers of the Belgian line and cavalry regiments andat first I was put in a _blessé_ ward. I had originally gone out withthe idea of being one of the chauffeurs; but we were so short of nursesthat I willingly went into the wards instead, where we worked undertrained sisters. The men were so jolly and patient and full of gratitudeto the English "Miskes" (which was an affectionate diminutive of"Miss"). It was a sad day when we had to clear the beds to make readyfor fresh cases. I remember going down to the Gare Maritime one daybefore the Hospital ship left for Cherbourg, where they were all taken. Never shall I forget the sight. In those days passenger ships had beenhastily converted into Hospital ships and the accommodation was verydifferent from that of to-day. All the cases from my ward were"stretchers" and indeed hardly fit to be moved. I went down thecompanion way, and what a scene met my eyes. The floor of the saloon waspacked with stretchers all as close together as possible. It seemedterrible to believe that every one[1] of those men was seriously wounded. The stretchers were so close together it was impossible to try and moveamong them, so I stayed on the bottom rung of the ladder and threw thecigarettes to the different men who were well enough to smoke them. Thediscomfort they endured must have been terrible, for from a letter Isubsequently received I learnt they were three days on the journey. Inthose days when the Germans were marching on Calais, it was up to themedical authorities to pass the wounded through as quickly as possible. 

Often the men could only speak Flemish, but I did not find muchdifficulty in understanding it. If you speak German with a broadCumberland accent I assure you you can make yourself understood quiteeasily! It was worth while trying anyway, and it did one's heart good tosee how their faces lighted up. 

There were some famous characters in the Hospital, one of them beingJefké, the orderly in Ward I, who at times could be tender as a woman, at others a veritable clown keeping the men in fits of laughter, then assuddenly lapsing into a profound melancholy and reading a horriblelittle greasy prayer book assuring us most solemnly that his one idea inlife was to enter the Church. Though he stole jam right and left hisheart was in the right place, for the object of his depredations wasalways some extra tasty dish for a specially bad _blessé_. He had thelongest of eyelashes, and his expression when caught would be so comicalit was impossible to be angry with him. 

Another famous "impayable" was the coffin-cart man who came on occasionsto drive the men to their last resting place. The Coffin cart was amelancholy looking vehicle resembling in appearance a dilapidated oldcrow, as much as anything, or a large bird of prey with its torn blackcanvas sides that flapped mournfully like huge wings in the wind asPierre drove it along the streets. I could never repress a shiver when Isaw it flapping along. The driver was far from being a sorry individualwith his crisp black moustaches _bien frisés_ and his merry eye. Heexplained to me in a burst of confidence that his _métier_ in peacetimes was that of a trick cyclist on the Halls. What a contrast fromhis present job. He promised to borrow a bicycle on the morrow and givean exhibition for our benefit in the yard. He did so, and was certainlyno mean performer. The only day I ever saw him really downcast was whenhe came to bid good-bye. "What, Pierre, " said I, "you don't mean to sayyou are leaving us?" "Yes, Miske, for punishment--I will explain how itarrived. Look you, to give pleasure to my young lady I took her for ajoy-ride, a very little one, on the coffin cart, and on returning beholdwe were caught, _voilà_, and now I go to the trenches!" I could not helplaughing, he looked so downcast, and the idea of his best girl enjoyinga ride in that lugubrious car struck me as being the funniest thing Ihad heard for some time. 

We were a never-failing source of wonderment to the French inhabitantsof the town. Our manly Yeomanry uniform filled them with awe andadmiration. I overheard a chemist saying to one of his clients as wewere passing out of his shop, "Truly, until one hears their voices, onewould say they were men. "

"There's a compliment for us, " said I, to Struttie. "I didn't know wehad manly faces until this moment. "

After some time when work was not at such a high pressure, two of uswent out riding in turns on the sands with one of the Commandants. Belgian military saddles took some getting used to with the peak infront and the still higher one behind, not to mention the excessiveslipperiness of the surface. His favourite pastime on the return ridewas to play follow my leader up and down the sand dunes, and it was hisgreat delight to go streaking up the very highest, with the sandcrumbling and slipping behind him, and we perforce had to follow and liealmost flat on the horse's backs as we descended the "precipice" theother side. We felt English honour was at stake and with our hearts inour mouths (at least mine was!) followed at all costs. 

If we were off duty in the evening we hurried back to the "shop window"buying eggs _en route_ and anything else we fancied for supper; then weundressed hastily and thoroughly enjoyed our picnic meal instead ofhaving it in the hospital kitchen, with the sanded floor and the medleyof Belgian cooks in the background and the banging of saucepans as anaccompaniment. Two of the girls kept their billet off the Grand Place asa permanency. It was in a funny old-fashioned house in a dark streetknown universally as "the dug-out"--Madame was fat and capable, with alarge heart. The French people at first were rather at a loss to placethe English "Mees" socially and one day two of us looked in to askMadame's advice on how to cook something. She turned to us inastonishment. "How now, you know not how to cook a thing simple as that?Who then makes the 'cuisine' for you at home? Surely not Madame yourmother when there are young girls such as you in the house?" We gazedat her dumbly while she sniffed in disgust. "Such a thing is unheard ofin my country, " she continued wrathfully. "I wonder you have not shameat your age to confess such ignorance"--"What _would_ she say, " said myfriend to me when she had gone, "if I told her we have _two_ cooks athome?"

This house of Madame's was built in such a way that some of the bedroomsjutted out over the shops in the narrow little streets. Thompson andStruttie who had a room there were over a Café Chantant known as the"Bijou"--a high class place of entertainment! Sunday night was a galaperformance and I was often asked to a "scrambled-egg" supper duringwhich, with forks suspended in mid air, we listened breathlessly to thesounds of revelry beneath. Some of the performers had extremely goodvoices and we could almost, but not quite, hear the words (perhaps itwas just as well). What ripping tunes they had! I can remember oneespecially when, during the chorus, all the audience beat time withtheir feet and joined in. We were evolving wild schemes of disguisingourselves as _poilus_ and going in a body to witness the show, butunfortunately it was one of those things that is "not done" in the bestcircles!

CHAPTER III

THE JOURNEY UP TO THE FRONT

Soon my turn came to go up to the trenches. The day had at last arrived!We were not due to go actually _into_ the trenches till after dark incase of drawing fire, but we set off early, as we had some distance togo and stores to deliver at dressing stations. Two of the trainednurses, Sister Lampen and Joynson, were of the party, and twoF. A. N. Y. 's; the rest of the good old "Mors" ambulance was filled withsacks of shirts, mufflers, and socks, together with the indispensablefirst-aid chests and packets of extra dressings in case of need. 

Our first visit was made to the Belgian Headquarters in the town for our_laisser passers_, without which we would not be allowed to pass thesentries at the barriers. We were also given the _mots du jour_ orpass-words for the day, the latter of which came into operation onlywhen we were in the zone of fire. I will describe what happened indetail, as it was a very fair sample of the average day up at the front. The road along which we travelled was, of course, lined with theubiquitous poplar tree, placed at regular intervals as far as the eyecould see. The country was flat to a degree, with cleverly hiddenentrenchments at intervals, for this was the famous main road to Calaisalong which the Kaiser so ardently longed to march. 

Barriers occurred frequently placed slantwise across the roads, wheresentries stood with fixed bayonets, and through which no one could passunless the _laisser passer_ was produced. Some of those barriers werequite tricky affairs to drive through in a big ambulance, and remindedme of a gymkhana! It was quite usual in those days to be stopped by asoldier waiting on the road, who, with a gallant bow and salute, askedyour permission to "mount behind" and have a lift to so and so. In fact, if you were on foot and wanted to get anywhere quickly it was alwayssafe to rely on a military car or ambulance coming along, and thensimply wave frantically and ask for a lift. Very much a case of shareand share alike. 

We passed many regiments riding along, and very gay they looked withtheir small cocked caps and tassels that dangled jauntily over one eye(this was before they got into khaki). The regiments were either Frenchor Belgian, for no British were in that sector at this time. Soon wearrived at the picturesque entry into Dunkirk, with its drawbridge andmediæval towers and grey city wall; here our passes were again examined, and there was a long queue of cars waiting to get through as we drewup. Once "across the Rubicon" we sped through the town and in time cameto Furnes with its quaint old market place. Already the place wasshowing signs of wear and tear. Shell holes in some of the roofs and agood many broken panes, together with the general air of desertion, allcombined to make us feel we were near the actual fighting line. Welearnt that bombs had been dropped there only that morning. (This wasearly in 1915, and since then the place has been reduced to almostcomplete ruin. ) We sped on, and could see one of the famous coastalforts on the horizon. So different from what one had always imagined afort would look like. "A green hill far away, " seems best to describeit, I think. It wasn't till one looked hard that one could see smalldark splotches that indicated where the cannon were. 

A Belgian whom we were "lifting" ("lorry jumping" is now the correctterm!) pointed out to us a huge factory, now in English hands, which hadbeen owned before the war by a German. Under cover of the so-called"factory" he had built a secret gun emplacement for a large gun, totrain on this same fort and demolish it when the occasion arose. At thispoint we saw the first English soldiers that day in motor boats on thecanal, and what a smile of welcome they gave us!

Presently we came to lines of Belgian Motor transport drawn up at thesides of the road, car after car, waiting patiently to get on. Withoutexaggeration this line was a mile in length, and we simply had to crawlpast, as there was barely room for a large ambulance on that narrow andexcessively muddy road. The drivers were all in excellent spirits, andnodded and smiled as we passed--occasionally there was an officer's carsandwiched in between, and those within gravely saluted. 

About this time a very cheery Belgian artillery-man who was exchangingto another regiment, came on board and kept us highly amused. Souvenirswere the aim and end of existence just then, and he promised us shellheads galore when he came down the line. On leaving the car, as a tokenof his extreme gratitude, he pressed his artillery cap into our handssaying he would have no further need of it in his new regiment, andwould we accept it as a souvenir!

The roads in Belgium need some explaining for those who have not had theopportunity to see them. Firstly there is the _pavé_, and a very popularpicture with us after that day was one which came out in the _Sketch_ ofa Tommy in a lorry asking a haughty French dragoon to "Alley off thebloomin' pavee--vite. " Well, this famous _pavé_ consists of cobblesabout six inches square, and these extend across the road to about thewidth of a large cart--On either side there is mud--with a capital M, such as one doesn't often see--thick and clayey and of a peculiarlygluey substance, and in some places quite a foot deep. You can imaginethe feeling at the back of your spine as you are squeezing past anothercar. If you aren't extremely careful plop go the side wheels off the"bloomin' pavee" into the mud beyond and it takes half the Belgian Armyto help to heave you on to the "straight and narrow" path once more. 

It was just about this time we heard our first really heavy firing andit gave us a queer thrill to hear the constant boom-boom of the gunslike a continuous thunderstorm. We began to feel fearfully hungry, andstopped beside a high bank flanking a canal and not far from a smallcafé. Bunny and I went to get some hot water. It was a tumble-down placeenough, and as we pushed the door open (on which, by the way, was thenotice in French, "During the bombardment one enters by the side door")we found the room full of men drinking coffee and smoking. I bashfullymade my way towards one of the oldest women I have ever seen and askedher in a low voice for some hot water. As luck would have it she wasdeaf as a post, and the whole room listened in interested silence aswith scarlet face I yelled out my demands in my best French. We returnedtriumphantly to the waiting ambulance and had a very jolly lunch to thenow louder accompaniment of the guns. The passing soldiers took a greatinterest in us and called out whatever English words they knew, the mostpopular being "Good night. "

We soon started on our way again, and at this point there was actually abend in the road. Just before we came to it there was a whistling, sobbing sound in the air and then an explosion somewhere ahead of us. Weall shrank instinctively, and I glanced sideways at my companion, hopingshe hadn't noticed, to find that she was looking at me, and we bothlaughed without explaining. 

As we turned the corner, the usual flat expanse of country greeted oureyes, and a solitary red tiled farmhouse on the right attracted ourattention, in front of which was a group of soldiers. On drawing near wesaw that this was the spot where the shell had landed and that therewere casualties. We drew up and got down hastily, taking dressings withus. The sight that met my eyes is one I shall never forget, and, infact, cannot describe. Four men had just been blown to pieces--I leavethe details to your imagination, but it gave me a sudden shock torealize that a few minutes earlier those remains had been living menwalking along the road laughing and talking. 

The soldiers, French, standing looking on, seemed more or less dazed. While they assured us we could do nothing, the body of a fifth soldierwho had been hit on the head by a piece of the same shell, andinstantaneously killed, was being borne on a stretcher into the farm. Itall seemed curiously unreal. 

One of the men silently handed me a bit of the shell, which was stillwarm. It was just a chance that we had not stopped opposite that farmfor lunch, as we assuredly would have done had it not been hiddenbeyond the bend in the road. The noise of firing was now very loud, andthough the sun was shining brightly on the farm, the road we weredestined to follow was sombre looking with a lowering sky overhead. Another shell came over and burst in front of us to the right. For aninstant I felt in an awful funk, and my one idea was to flee from thatsinister spot as fast as I could. We seemed to be going right for it, "looking for trouble, " in fact, as the Tommies would say, and it gaveone rather a funny sinking feeling in one's tummy! A shell might comewhizzing along so easily just as the last one had done. [2] Someone at thatmoment said "Let's go back, " and with that all my fears vanished in amoment as if by magic. "Rather not, this is what we've come for, " said aF. A. N. Y. , "hurry up and get in, it's no use staying here, " and soon wewere whizzing along that road again and making straight for the steadyboom-boom, and from then onwards a spirit of subdued excitement filledus all. Stray shells burst at intervals, and it seemed not unlikely theywere potting at us from Dixmude. 

We passed houses looking more and more dilapidated and the road gotmuddier and muddier. Finally we arrived at the village of Ramscapelle. It was like passing through a village of the dead--not a house leftwhole, few walls standing, and furniture lying about haphazard. Weproceeded along the one main street of the village until we came to ahouse with green shutters which had been previously described to us asthe Belgian headquarters. It was in a better state than the others, anda small flag indicated we had arrived at our destination. 

CHAPTER IV

BEHIND THE TRENCHES

We got out and leaped the mud from the _pavé_ to the doorstep, and anorderly came forward and conducted us to a sitting room at the rearwhere Major R. Welcomed us, and immediately ordered coffee. We weregreatly impressed by the calm way in which he looked at things. Hepointed with pride to a gaily coloured print from the one and only "Vie"(what would the dug-outs at the front have done without "La Vie" andKirchner?), which covered a newly made shell hole in the wall. He alsoshowed us places where shrapnel was embedded; and from the window we sawa huge hole in the back garden made by a "Black Maria. " Beside it was agrave headed by a little rough wooden cross and surmounted by one ofthose gay tasselled caps we had seen early that morning, though itseemed more like last week, so much had happened since then. 

As it was only possible to go into the trenches at dusk we still hadsome time to spare, and after drinking everybody's health in someexcellent benedictine, Major R. Suggested we should make a tour ofinspection of the village. "The bombardment is over for the day, " headded, "so you need have no fear. " I went out wondering at his certaintythat the Boche would _not_ bombard again that afternoon. It transpiredlater that they did so regularly at the same time every afternoon aspart of the day's work! There did come a time, however, when theychanged the programme, but that was later, on another visit. 

We made for the church which had according to custom been shelled morethan the houses. The large crucifix was lying with arms outstretched ona pile of wreckage, the body pitted with shrapnel. The curé accompaniedus, and it was all the poor old man could do to keep from breaking downas he led us mournfully through that devastated cemetery. Some of thegraves, even those with large slabs over them, had been shelled to suchan extent that the stone coffins beneath could clearly be seen, halfopened, with rotting grave-clothes, and in others even the skeletons hadbeen disinterred. New graves, roughly fashioned like the one we had seenin the back garden at headquarters, were dotted all over the place. Somehow they were not so sinister as those old heavily slabbed onesdisturbed after years of peace. The curé took me into the church, thewalls of which were still standing, and begged me to take a photo of aspecial statue (this was before cameras were tabooed), which I did. Ihad to take a "time" as the light was so bad, and quite by luck it cameout splendidly and I was able to send him a copy. 

It was all most depressing and I was jolly glad to get away from theplace. On the way back we saw a battery of _sept-cinqs_ (Frenchseventy-fives) cleverly hidden by branches. They had just been moved upinto these new positions. Of course the booming of the guns went on allthe time and we were told Nieuport was having its daily "ration. " We hadseveral other places to go to to deliver Hospital stores; also twoadvanced dressing stations to visit, so we pushed off, promising MajorR. To be back at 6. 30. 

We had to go in the direction of Dixmude, then in German occupation, andthe mud at this point was too awful for words, while at intervals therewere huge shell holes full of water looking like small circular ponds. Luckily for us they were never right in the middle of the road, butalways a little to one side or the other, and just left us enough _pavé_to squeeze past on, which was really very thoughtful of the Boche!

The country looked indescribably desolate; but funnily enough there werea lot of birds flying about, mostly in flocks. Two little partridgesquietly strutted across the road and seemed quite unperturbed!

Further on we came across a dead horse, the first of many. It had beenhit in the flank by a shell. It was a sad sight; the poor creature wasjust left lying by the side of the road, and I shall never forget it. The crows had already taken out its eyes. I must say that that sightaffected me much more than the men I had seen earlier in the day. Therewas no one then to bury horses. 

We came to the little _poste de secours_ and the officer told us theyhad been heavily shelled that morning and he sent out an orderly to digup some of the fuse-tops that had fallen in the field beyond. He gave usas souvenirs three lovely shell heads that had fused at the wrong time. Everything seemed strangely unreal, and I wondered at times if I wasawake. He was delighted with the Hospital stores we had brought andshowed us his small dressing station, from which all the wounded hadbeen removed after the bombardment was over. We then went on to anotherat Caeskerke within sight of Dixmude, the ruins of which could plainlybe seen. I found it hard to realize that this was really the much talkedof "front. " One half expected to see rows and rows of regiments insteadof everything being hidden away. Except for the extreme desolation andcontinual sound of firing we might have been anywhere. 

We were held up by a sentry further on, and he demanded the _mot dejour_. I leant out of the car (it always has to be whispered) andmurmured "Gustave" in a low voice into his ear. "_Non, Mademoiselle_, "he said sadly, "_pas ça_. " "Does he mean it isn't his own Christianname?" I asked myself. Still it was the name we had been given at theÉtat Major as the pass word. I repeated it again with the same result. "I assure you the Colonel himself at C---- gave it to me, " I addeddesperately. He still shook his head, and then I remembered that somedays they had names of people and others the names of places, andperhaps I had been given the wrong one. "Paris" I hazarded. He againshook his head, and I decided to be firm and in a voice of convictionsaid, "Allons, c'est 'Arras, ' alors. " He looked doubtful, and said, "Perhaps with the English it is that to-day. " He was giving me aloophole and I responded with fervour, "Yes, yes, assuredly it is'Arras' with the English, " and he waved us past. I thought regretfullyhow easily a German spy might bluff the sentry in a similar manner. 

Time being precious I salved my conscience about it as we drew up inPervyse and decided to make tea. I saw a movement among the ruins andthere, peeping round one of the walls, was a ragged hungry lookinginfant about eight years of age. We made towards him, but he fled, andpicking our way over the ruins we actually found a family in residencein a miserable hovel behind the onetime Hôtel de Ville. There was an oldcouple, man and wife, and a flock of ragged children, the remnants ofdifferent families which had been wiped out. They only spoke Flemish andI brought out the few sentences I knew, whereupon the old dame seized myarm and poured out such a flow of words that I was quite at a loss toknow what she meant. I did gather, however, that she had a niece ofsixteen in the inner room, who spoke French, and that she would go andfetch her. The niece appeared at this moment and was dragged forward;all she would say, however, was "_Tiens, tiens!_" to whatever we askedher, so we came to the conclusion that was the limit to her knowledge ofFrench, very non-committal and not frightfully encouraging. So with muchbowing and smiling we departed on our way, after distributing theremainder of our buns among the group of wide-eyed hungry lookingchildren who watched us off. The old man had stayed in his corner thewhole time muttering to himself. His brain seemed to be affected, whichwas not much wonder considering what he had been through, poor oldthing!

On our way back to Ramscapelle we had the bad luck to slip off the"bloomin' pavee" while passing an ammunition wagon; a thing I had beendreading all along. I got out on the foot board and stepped, in thepanic of the moment, into the mud. I thought I was never going to "touchbottom. " I did finally, and the mud was well above my knees. The passingsoldiers were greatly amused and pulled me to shore, and then, steppinginto the slough with a grand indifference, soon got the car up again. The evening was drawing in, and the land all round had been flooded. Asthe sun set, the most glorious lights appeared, casting purple shadowsover the water: It seemed hard to believe we were so near the trenches, but there on the road were the men filing silently along on their way toenter them as soon as dusk fell. They had large packs of straw on theirbacks which we learnt was to ensure their having a dry place to sit in;and when I saw the trenches later on I was not surprised at theprecaution. 

Mysterious "Star-lights" presently made their appearance over the Germantrenches, gleamed for a moment, and then went out leaving the landscapevery dark and drear. We hurried on back to Ramscapelle, sentries poppingup at intervals to enquire our business. Floods stretched on either sideof the road as far as the eye could see. We were obliged to crawl at asnail's pace as it grew darker. Of course no lights of any sort wereallowed, and the lines of soldiers passing along silently to their postsin the trenches seemed unending; we were glad when we drew up once againat the Headquarters in Ramscapelle. 

Major R. Hastened out and told us that his own men who had been in thetrenches for four days were just coming out for a rest, and he wished wecould spare some of our woollies for them. We of course gladly assented, so he lined them up in the street littered with débris in front of theHeadquarters. We each had a sack of things and started at different endsof the line, giving every man a pair of socks, a muffler or scarf, whichever he most wanted. In nearly every case it was socks; and howglad and grateful they were to get them! It struck me as rather funnywhen I noticed cards in the half-light affixed to the latter, texts(sometimes appropriate, but more often not) and verses of poetry. Ithought of the kind hands that had knitted them in far away England andwondered if the knitters had ever imagined their things would be givenout like this, to rows of mud-stained men standing amid shell-riddledhouses on a dark and muddy road, their words of thanks half-drowned inthe thunder of war. 

CHAPTER V

IN THE TRENCHES

Major R. , who is a great admirer of things English, suddenly gave thecommand to his men, and out of compliment to us "It's a long way toTipararee" rang out. The pronunciation of the words was most odd and welistened in wonder; the Major's chest however positively swelled withpride, for he had taught them himself! We assured him, tactfully, theresult was most successful. 

We returned to the Headquarters and sorted out stores for the trenches. The Major at that moment received a telephone message to say a farm inthe Nieuport direction was being attacked. We looked up from our workand saw the shells bursting like fireworks, the noise of course wasdeafening. We soon got accustomed to it and besides had too much to doto bother. When all was ready, we were given our instructions--we wereto keep together till we had passed through the village when the doctorwould be there to meet us and, with a guide, conduct us to the trenches;we were all to proceed twenty paces one after the other, no word was tobe spoken, and if a Verey light showed up we were to drop down flat. Ihoped fervently it might not be in a foot of mud!

Off we set, and I must say my heart was pounding pretty hard. It wasrather nervy work once we were beyond the town, straining our eyesthrough the darkness to follow the figure ahead. Occasionally a sentrypopped up from apparently nowhere. A whispered word and then on we wentagain. I really can't say how far we walked like this; it seemedpositively miles. Suddenly a light flared in the sky, illuminating thesurrounding country in an eerie glare. It didn't take me many minutes, needless to say, to drop flat! Luckily it was _pavé_, but I would havewelcomed mud rather than be left standing silhouetted within sight ofthe German trenches on that shell-riddled road. Finally we saw a longblack line running at right angles, and the guide in front motioned meto stop while he went on ahead. 

I had time to look round and examine the place as well as I could andalso to put down my bundle of woollies that had become extremely heavy. These trenches were built against a railway bank (the railway lines hadlong since been destroyed or torn up), and just beyond ran the famousYser and the inundations which had helped to stem the German advance. Iwas touched on the shoulder at this point, and clambered down into thetrench along a very slippery plank. The men looked very surprised to seeus, and their little dug-outs were like large rabbit hutches. I crawledinto one on my hands and knees as the door was very low. The twooccupants had a small brazier burning. Straw was on the floor--the strawwe had previously seen on the men's backs--and you should have seentheir faces brighten at the sight of a new pair of socks. We pushed on, as it was getting late. I shall never forget that trench--it was thesecond line--the first line consisting of "listening posts" somewhere inthat watery waste beyond, where the men wore waders reaching well abovetheir knees. We squelched along a narrow strip of plank with thetrenches on one side and a sort of cesspool on the other--no wonder theygot typhoid, and I prayed I mightn't slip. 

We could walk upright further on without our heads showing, which was acomfort, as it is extremely tiring to walk for long in a stoopingposition. Through an observation hole in the parapet we looked right outacross the inundations to where the famous "Ferme Violette, " which hadchanged hands so often and was at present German, could plainly be seen. Dark objects were pointed out to us sticking up in the water which thesergeant cheerfully observed, holding his nose the meanwhile, were_sales Boches_! We hurried on to a bigger dug-out and helped the doctorwith several _blessés_ injured that afternoon, and later we helped toremove them back to the village and thence to a field hospital. Justthen we began bombarding with the 75's. Which we had seen earlier on. The row was deafening--first a terrific bang, then a swizzing throughthe air with a sound like a sob, and then a plop at the other end whereit had exploded--somewhere. At first, as with all newcomers in thefiring line, we ducked our heads as the shells went over, to a roar ofdelight from the men, but in time we gave that up. During thisbombardment we went on distributing our woollies all along the line, andI thought my head would split at any moment, the noise was so great. Iasked one of the officers, during a pause, why the Germans weren'treplying, and he said we had just got the range of one of theirpositions by 'phone, and as these guns we were employing had just beenbrought up, the Boche would not waste any shells until they thought theyhad our range. 

Presently we came to the officer's dug-out, and, would you believe it, he had small windows with lace curtains! They were the size of pockethandkerchiefs; still the fact remains, they _were_ curtains. He showedus two bits of a shell that had burst above the day before and made theroof collapse, but since then the damage had been remedied by a stoutbeam. He was a merry little man with twinkling eyes and very proud ofhis little house. 

Our things began to give out at this point and we were not at the end ofthe line by any means. It was heart breaking to hear one man say, "Unepaire de chaussettes, Mees, je vous en prie; il y a trois mois depuisque j'en ai eu. " (A pair of socks, miss, I beseech you, it's threemonths since I had any). I gave him my scarf, which was all I had left, and could only turn sorrowfully away. He put it on immediately, cheerfully accepting the substitute. 

We were forced to make our adieux at this point, as there was no reasonfor us to continue along the line. We promised to bring more things thenext night and start at the point where we had left off. I thoughtregretfully it would be some days before my turn came round again. 

The same care had to be observed on the return journey, and we couldonly speak in the softest of whispers. The bombardment had now died awayas suddenly as it had begun. The men turned from their posts to whisper"_Bon soir, bonne chance_, " or else "_Dieu vous bénisse_. " The silenceafter that ear-splitting din was positively uncanny: it made one feelone wanted to shout or whistle, or do something wild; anything to breakit. One almost wished the Germans would retaliate! That silent monsteronly such a little way from us seemed just waiting to spring. We crawledone by one out of the trenches on to the road, and began the perilousjourney homewards with the _blessés_, knowing that at any moment theGermans might begin bombarding. As we were resting the Captain of thebattery joined us, and in the semi-darkness I saw he was offering me abunch of snowdrops! It certainly was an odd moment to receive a bouquet, but somehow at the time it did not seem to be particularly out of place, and I tucked them into the belt of my tunic and treasured them for daysafterwards--snowdrops that had flowered regardless of war in the gardenof some cottage long since destroyed. 

Arrived once more at Headquarters we were pressed to a _petit verre_ ofsome very hot and raw liqueur, but nevertheless very warming, and verygood. I felt I agreed with the Irish coachman who at his first tastedeclared "The shtuff was made in Hiven but the Divil himself invintedthe glasses!" We had got terribly cold in the trenches. After takingleave of our kind hosts we set off for the Hospital. 

It was now about 1. 30 a. M. , and we were stopped no less than seventeentimes on our way back. As it was my job to lean out and whisper into thesentry's "pearly, " I got rather exasperated. By the time I'd passed theseventeenth "Gustave, " I felt I'd risk even a bayonet to be allowed tosnooze without interruption. The _blessés_ were deposited in Hospitaland the car, once rid of its wounded load, sped through the night backto Lamarck, and I wondered sleepily if my first visit to the trencheswas a reality or only a dream. 

CHAPTER VI

THE TYPHOID WARDS

When I first came to Hospital I had been put as V. A. D. In Ward I, on thesurgical side, and at ten o'clock had heard "shop" (which by the way wasstrictly debarred, but nevertheless formed the one and only topic ofconversation), from nurses and sisters in the Typhoid Wards, but hadnever actually been there myself. As previously explained the threeTyphoid Wards--rooms leading one out of the other on the groundfloor--were in a separate building joined only by some outhouses to themain portion, thus forming three sides of the paved yard. 

The east end of the Cathedral with its beautiful windows completed thesquare, and in the evenings it was very restful to hear the muffledsounds of the old organ floating up through the darkness. 

Sister Wicks asked me one day to go through these wards with her. Itmust be remembered that at this early period there were no regulartyphoid hospitals; and in fact ours was the only hospital in the placethat would take them in, the others having refused. Our beds weretherefore always full, and the typhoid staff was looked on as thehardest worked in the Hospital, and always tried to make us feel thatthey were the only ones who did any real work!

It was difficult to imagine these hollow-cheeked men with glitteringeyes and claw-like hands were the men who had stemmed the German rush atLiége. Some were delirious, others merely plucking at the sheets withtheir wasted fingers, and everywhere the sisters and nurses werehurrying to and fro to alleviate their sufferings as much as possible. Ishall always see the man in bed sixteen to this day. He was extremelyfair, with blue eyes and a light beard. I started when I first saw him, he looked so like some of the pictures of Christ one sees; and there wasan unearthly light in his eyes. He was delirious and seemed very ill. The sister told me he had come down with a splendid fighting record, andwas one of the worst cases of pneumonic typhoid in the ward. My heartached for him, and instinctively I shivered, for somehow he did not seemto belong to this world any longer. We passed on to Ward III, where Iwas presented to "Le Petit Sergent, " a little bit of a man, so cheeryand bright, who had made a marvellous recovery, but was not yet wellenough to be moved. Everywhere was that peculiar smell which seemsinseparable from typhoid wards in spite, or perhaps because of, the manydisinfectants. We left by the door at the end of Salle III and once inthe sunlight again, I heaved a sigh of relief; for frankly I thought thethree typhoid Salles the most depressing places on earth. They weredark, haunting, and altogether horrible. "Well, " said Sergeant Wickscheerfully, "what do you think of the typhoid Wards? Splendid aren'tthey? You should have seen them at first. " As I made no reply, sherattled gaily on, "Well, I hope you will find the work interesting whenyou come to us as a pro. To-morrow. " I gasped. "Am I to leave the_blessés_, then?" was all I could feebly ask--"Why, yes, didn't theytell you?"--and she was off before I could say anything more. 

 * * * * *

When one goes to work in France one can't pick and choose, and the nextmorning saw me in the typhoid wards which soon I learnt to love, andwhich I found so interesting that I hardly left them from that timeonwards, except for "trench duty. "

I was in Salle I at first--the less serious cases--and life seemed oneeternal rush of getting "feeds" for the different patients, "doingmouths, " and making "Bengers. " All the boiling and heating was done inone big stove in Salle II. Each time I passed No. 16 I tried not to lookat him, but I always ended in doing so, and each time he seemed to bethinner and more ethereal looking. He literally went to skin and bone. He must have been such a splendid man, I longed for him to get better, but one morning when I passed, the bed was empty and a nurse wasdisinfecting the iron bedstead. For one moment I thought he had beenmoved. "Where--What?" I asked, disjointedly of the nurse. "Died in thenight, " she said briefly. "Don't look like that, " and she went on withher work. No. 16 had somehow got on my mind, I suppose because it wasthe first bad typhoid case I had seen, and from the first I had takensuch an interest in him. One gets accustomed to these things in time, but I never forgot that first shock. In the afternoons the men'stemperatures rose alarmingly, and most of the time was spent in"blanket-bathing" which is about the most back-aching pastime there is;but how the patients loved to feel the cool sponges passing over theirfeverish limbs. They were so grateful and, though often too ill tospeak, would smile their thanks, and one felt it was worth all thebackaches in the world. 

It was such a virulent type of typhoid. Although we had been inoculated, we were obliged to gargle several times during the day, and even then wealways had more or less of a "typy" throat. 

Our gallant sergeant, sister Wicks, who had organised and run the wholeof the three Salles since November '14, suddenly developed para-typhoid, and with great difficulty was persuaded to go to bed. Fortunately shedid not have it badly, and in her convalescent stage I was sent to lookafter her up at the "shop window. " I was anxious to get her somethingreally appetising for lunch, and presently heard one of the famous fishwives calling out in the street. I ran out and bargained with her, forof course she would have been vastly disappointed if I had given her theoriginal price she asked. At last I returned triumphant with two nicelooking little "Merlans, " too small to cut their heads off, I decided. Ihad never coped with fish before, so after holding them for some timeunder the tap till they seemed clean enough, put them on to fry inbutter. I duly took them in on a tray to Wicks, and I'm sure they lookedvery tasty. "Have you cleaned them?" she asked suspiciously. "Yes, ofcourse I have, " I replied. She examined them. "May I ask what you_did_?" she said. "I held them under the tap, " I told her, "there didn'tseem anything more to be done, " I added lamely. 

How she laughed--I thought she was never going to stop--and I stoodthere patiently waiting to hear the joke. She explained at length andsaid, "No, take them away; you've made me feel ever so much better, butI'll have eggs instead, thank you. " I went off grumbling, "How on earthwas I to know anyway they kept their tummies behind their ears!"

That fish story went all over the hospital. 

Nursing in the typhoids was relieved by turns up to the trenches behindDixmude, which we looked forward to tremendously, but as they werepractically--with slight variations in the matter of shelling andbombardments--a repetition of my first experience, there is no object inrecounting them here. 

The typhoid doctor--"Scrubby, " by name; so called because of theinability of his chin to make up its mind if it would have a beard ornot--was very amusing, without of course meaning to be. He liked towrite the reports of the patients in the Sister's book himself, and wasvery proud of his English, and this is what occasionally appeared:

Patient No. 12. "If the man sleep, let him sleep. "

Patient No. 13. "To have red win (wine) in the spoonful. "

Patient No. 14. "If the man have a temper (i. E. Temperature) reduce himwith the sponges. " And he was once heard to remark with reference to aflat tyre: "That tube is contrary to the swelling state!"

So far, I have made no mention of the men orderlies, who I must say wereabsolute bricks. There was Pierre, an alert little Bruxellois, who wasin a bank before the war and kept his widowed mother. He was in constantfear as to her safety, for she had been left in their little house andhad no time to escape. He was well-educated and most interesting, andoh, so gentle with the men. Then there was Louis, Ziské, and Charlké, abig hefty Walloon who had been the butcher on a White Star liner beforethe war, all excellent workers. 

About this time I went on night duty and liked it very much. One wasmuch freer for one thing, and the sisters immediately became more human(especially when they relied on the pros. To cook the midnight supper!), and further there were no remarks or reflections about the defects ofthe "untrained unit" who "imagined they knew everything after fourmonths of war. " (With reference to cooking, I might here mention thatsince the fish episode Mrs. Betton and I were on more than speakingterms!)[3]

There were several very bad cases in Salle II. One especially Sisterfeared would not pull through. I prayed he might live, but it was not tobe. She was right--one night about 2 a. M. He became rapidly worse andperforation set in. The dreadful part was that he was so horriblyconscious all the time. "Miske, " he asked, "think you that I shall seemy wife and five children again?" Before I could reply, he continued, "They were there _là bas_ in the little house so happy when I left themin 1914--My God, " and he became agitated. "If it were not permitted thatI return? Do you think I am going to die, Miske?" "You must try and keepthe patient from getting excited, " said the calm voice of the Sister, who did not speak French. He died about an hour later. It was terrible. "Why must they go through so much suffering?" I wondered miserably. Ifthey _are_ to die, why can't it happen at once?"

This was the first typhoid death I had actually witnessed. In themorning the sinister coffin cart flapped into the yard and bore him offto his last resting place. What, I wondered, happened to his wife andfive children?

When I became more experienced I could tell if patients were going torecover or not; and how often in the latter case I prayed that it mightbe over quickly; but no, the fell disease had to take its course; andeven the sisters said they had never seen such awful cases. 

CHAPTER VII

THE ZEPPELIN RAID

Once while on night duty I got up to go to a concert in the town at thetheatre in aid of the _Orphelins de la Guerre_. I must say when theFrenchman makes up his mind to have a charity concern he does itproperly, and with any luck it begins at 2. 30 and goes on till about 9or possibly 10 p. M. 

This was the first we had attended and they subsequently became quite afeature of the place. It was held on a Sunday, and the entire populationturned out _colimenté_ and _endimanché_ to a degree. The French andBelgian uniforms were extraordinarily smart, and the Belgian guides intheir tasselled caps, cheery breeches, and hunting-green tunics addedcolour to the scene. 

The Mayor of the town opened the performance with a long speech, thepurport of which I forget, but it lasted one hour and ten minutes, andthen the performance began. There were several intervals during whichthe entire audience left the salle and perambulated along the widecorridors round the building to greet their friends, and drink champagneout of large flat glasses, served at fabulous prices by fair ladies ofthe town clad in smart muslin dresses. The French Governor-General, covered with stars and orders, was there in state with hisaides-de-camp, and the Belgian General ditto, and everyone shook handsand talked at once. Heasy and I stood and watched the scene fascinated. Tea seemed to be an unheard of beverage. Presently we espied anEnglishman, very large and very tall, talking to a group of Frenchpeople. I remark on the fact because in those days there were no Englishanywhere near us, and to see a staff car passing through the town wasquite an event. We were glad, as he was the only Englishman there, thatour people had chosen the largest and tallest representative they couldfind. Presently he turned, and looked as surprised to see two khaki-cladEnglish girls in solar topees (the pre-war F. A. N. Y. Headgear), as Ithink we were to see him. 

The intervals lasted for half an hour, and I came to the conclusion theywere as much, if not more, part of the entertainment as the concertitself. 

It was still going strong when we left at 7 p. M. To go on duty, and thefaithful "Flossie" (our Ford) bore us swiftly back to hospital andtyphoids. 

On the night of March 18th, 1915, we had our second Zeppelin raid, whenthe Hospital had a narrow escape. (The first one occurred on 23rdFebruary, wiping out an entire family near the "Shop-window. ") I wasstill on night duty and, crossing over to Typhoids with some dressings, noticed how velvety the sky looked, with not a star to be seen. 

We always had two orderlies on at night, and at 12 o'clock one of themwas supposed to go over to the kitchen and have his supper, and when hecame back at 12. 30 the other went. On this particular occasion they hadboth gone together. Sister had also gone over at 12 to supper, so I wasleft absolutely alone with the fifty patients. [4]

None of the men at that time were particularly bad, except No. 23, whowas delirious and showed a marked inclination to try and get out of bed. I had just tucked him in safely for the twentieth time when at 12. 30 Iheard the throb of an engine. Aeroplanes were always flying about allday, so I did not think much of it. I half fancied it might be SidneyPickles, the airman, who had been to the Hospital several times and waskeen on stunt flying. This throbbing sounded much louder though than anyaeroplane, and hastily lowering what lights we had, with a final tuck toNo. 23, I ran to the door to ascertain if there was cause for alarm. Thenoise was terrific and sounded like no engine I had ever heard in mylife. I gazed into the purple darkness and felt sure that I must see thething, it seemed actually over my head. The expanse of sky to be seenfrom the yard was not very great, but suddenly in the space between thesurgical side and the Cathedral I could just discern an inky shadow, whale-like in shape, with one small twinkling light like a wicked eye. The machine was travelling pretty fast and fairly low down, and by itsbulk I knew it to be a Zeppelin. I tore back into the ward where most ofthe men were awake, and found myself saying, "_Ce n'est rien, ce n'estqu'un Zeppelin_" ("It's nothing--only a Zeppelin"), which on secondthoughts I came to the conclusion was not as reassuring as I meant it tobe. By this time the others were on their way back across the yard, andI turned to give 23 another tuck up. 

Such a long time elapsed before any firing occurred; it seemed to mewhen I first looked out into the yard I must be the only person who hadheard the Zepp. What were the sentinels doing, I wondered? Theexplanation I heard later from a French gunnery lieutenant. The man whohad the key to the ammunitions for the anti-aircraft guns was not at hispost, and was subsequently discovered in a drunken sleep--probably thework of German spies--at all events he was shot at dawn the followingday. In such manner does France deal with her sons who fail her. As soonas the Zepp. Had passed over, the firing burst forth in full vigour todie away presently. So far, apparently, no bombs had been dropped. Isuggested to Pierre we should relight one or two lamps, as it wasawkward stumbling about in complete darkness. "_Non, non, Miske_, hewill return, " he said with conviction. Apparently, though, all seemedquiet; and Sister suggested that after all the excitement, I should makemy way across the yard to get some supper. Pierre came with me, and atthat moment a dull explosion occurred. It was a bomb. The Zeppelin wasstill there. The guns again blazed away, the row was terrific. Starshells were thrown up to try and locate the Zepp. , and the sky was fullof showering lights, blue, green, and pink. Four searchlights wereplaying, shrapnel was bursting, and a motor machine gun let off volleysfrom sheer excitement, the sharp tut-tut-tut adding to the generalconfusion. In the pauses the elusive Zepp. Could be heard buzzing likesome gigantic angry bee. I wouldn't have missed it for anything. Itlooked like a fireworks display, and the row was increasing each minute. Every Frenchman in the neighbourhood let off his rifle with gusto. 

Just then we heard an extraordinary rushing noise in the air, like steambeing let off from a railway engine. A terrific bang ensued, and then aflare. It was an incendiary bomb and was just outside the Hospitalradius. I was glad to be in the open, one felt it would be better to bekilled outside than indoors. If the noise was bad before, it now becamedeafening. Pierre suggested the _cave_, a murky cellar by the gate, butit seemed safer to stay where we were, leaning in the shadow against thewalls of Notre Dame. Very foolish, I grant you, but early in 1915 thedangers of falling shrapnel, etc. , were not so well known. These eventshappened in a few seconds. Suddenly Pierre pointed skywards. "He isthere, up high, " he cried excitedly. I looked, but a blinding lightseemed to fill all space, the yard was lit up and I remember wonderingif the people in the Zepp. Would see us in our white overalls. Therushing sound was directly over our heads; there was a crash, the verywalls against which we were leaning rocked, and to show what one's minddoes at those moments, I remember thinking that when the Cathedraltoppled over it would just fit nicely into the Hospital square. Instinctively I put my head down sheltering it as best I could with myarms, while bricks, mortar, and slates rained on, and all around, us. There was a heavy thud just in front of us, and when the dust hadcleared away I saw it was a coping from the Cathedral, 2 feet by 4!Notre Dame had remained standing, but the bomb had completely smashed inthe roof of the chapel, against the walls of which we were leaning! Itwas only due to their extreme thickness that we were saved, and also tothe fact that we were under the protection of the wall. Had we beenfurther out the coping would assuredly have landed on us or else weshould have been hit by the shrapnel contained in the bombs, for thewall opposite was pitted with it. The dust was suffocating, and I heardPierre saying, "Come away, Mademoiselle. " Though it takes so long todescribe, only a few minutes had elapsed since leaving to cross theyard. The beautiful East window of the Cathedral was shivered to atoms, and likewise every window in the Hospital. All our watches had stopped. 

Crashing over broken glass to the surgical side, we pantingly asked ifeveryone was safe. We met Porter coming down the stairs, a stream ofblood flowing from a cut on her forehead. I hastily got some dressingsfor it. Luckily it was only a flesh wound, and not serious. Besides thenight nurses at the Hospital, the chauffeurs and housekeeper slept inthe far end of the big room at the top of the building. They had notbeen awakened (so accustomed were they to din and noise), until thecrash of the bomb on the Cathedral, and it was by the glass being blownin on to their stretcher beds that Porter had been cut; otherwise no oneelse was hurt. 

I plunged through the débris back to the typhoids, wondering how 23 hadgot on, or rather got out, and, would you believe it, his delirium hadgone and he was sleeping quietly like a child! The only bit of good theBoche ever did I fancy, for the shock seemed to cure him and he got wellfrom that moment. 

The others were in an awful mess, and practically every man's bed wasfull of broken glass. You can imagine what it meant getting this outwhen the patients were suffering from typhoid, and had to be moved aslittle as possible! One boy in Salle V had a flower pot from thewindow-sill above fixed on his head! Beyond being slightly dazed, and ofcourse covered with mould, he was none the worse; and those who werewell enough enjoyed his discomfiture immensely. Going into Salle IIIwhere there were shouts of laughter (the convalescents were sent to thatroom) I saw a funny sight. One little man, who was particularly fussyand grumpy (and very unpopular with the other men in consequence), sleptnear the stove, which was an old-fashioned coal one with a pipe leadingup to the ceiling. The concussion had shaken this to such an extent thataccumulations of soot had come down and covered him from head to foot, and he was as[5] black as a nigger! His expression of disgust was beyonddescription, and he was led through the other two wards on exhibition, where he was greeted with yells of delight. It was just as well, as itrelieved the tension. It can't be pleasant to be ill in bed and coveredwith bits of broken glass and mortar, not to mention the uncertainty ofwhether the walls are going to fall in or not. "Ah, " said the littleSergeant to me, "I have never had fear as I had last night. " "One isbetter in the trenches than in your Hospital, Miske, " chimed in another. "At least one can defend oneself. "

One orderly--a new one whom I strongly suspected of being an_embusqué_--was unearthed in our rounds from under one of the beds, andcame in for a lot of sarcasm, to the great joy of the patients who hadall behaved splendidly. [6] With the exception of Pierre and the porter onthe surgical side, every man jack of them, including the Adjutant, hadfled to the _cave_. A subsequent order came out soon after which amusedus very much:--In the event of future air raids the _infirmiers_(orderlies) were to fly to the _cave_ with the convalescents while the_très malades_ were to be left to the care of the _Mees anglaises_![7]

It took us till exactly 7 a. M. To get those three wards in anything likeorder, working without stopping. "Uncle, " who had dressed hurriedly andcome up to the Hospital from his Hotel to see if he could be of any use, brought a very welcome bowl of Ivelcon about 2. 30, which just made allthe difference, as I had had nothing since 7 the night before. It'ssurprising how hungry Zeppelin raids make one!

An extract from the account which appeared in _The Daily Chronicle_ thefollowing morning was as follows:--

"One bomb fell on Notre Dame Cathedral piercing the vault of one of theChapels on the right transept and wreaking irreparable damage to thebeautiful old glass of its gothic windows. This same bomb, which musthave been of considerable size, sent débris flying into the courtyard ofthe Lamarcq Hospital full of Belgian wounded being tended by EnglishNurses. 

"Altogether these Yeomanry nurses behaved admirably, for all the menfolkwith the exception of the doorkeeper" (and Pierre, please), "fled forrefuge to the cellars, and the women were left. In the neighbourhood onehears nothing but praise of these courageous Englishwomen. Another bombfell on a railway carriage in which a number of mechanics--refugees fromLille--were sleeping, as they had no homes of their own. The effect ofthe bomb on these unfortunate men was terrible. They were all more orless mutilated; and heads, hands, and feet were torn off. Then flamesbroke out on top of this carriage and in a moment the whole was one hugeconflagration. 

"As the Zeppelin drew off, its occupants had the sinister satisfactionof leaving behind them a great glare which reddened the sky for a fullhour in contrast with the total blackness of the town. "

Chris took out "Flossie, " and was on the scene of this last disaster assoon as she could get into her clothes after being so roughly awakenedby the splinters of glass. 

When the day staff arrived from the "Shop-window, " what a sight mettheir eyes! The poor old place looked as if it had had a night of it, and as we sat down to breakfast in the kitchen we shivered in the icyblasts that blew in gusts across the room, for of course the weather hadmade up its mind to be decidedly wintry just to improve matters. It tookweeks to get those windows repaired, as there was a run on what glaziersthe town possessed. The next night our plight in typhoids was not one tobe envied--Army blankets had been stretched inadequately across thewindows and the beds pulled out of the way of draughts as much aspossible, but do what we could the place was like an icehouse; the snowfiltered softly through the flapping blankets, and how we cursed theHun! At 3 a. M. One of the patients had a relapse and died. 

CHAPTER VIII

CONCERNING BATHS, "JOLIE ANNETTE, " "MARIE-MARGOT" AND "ST. INGLEVERT. "

After this event I was sent back for a time to the _blessés graves_ onthe surgical side on day duty. All who had been on duty that memorablenight had had a pretty considerable shock. It was like leaving one worldand stepping into another, so complete was the change from typhoids. 

The faithful Jefké was still there stealing jam for the patients, spending a riotous Saturday night _au cinéma_, going to Mass nextmorning, and then presenting himself in the Ward again looking as ifbutter would not melt in his mouth!

A new assistant orderly was there as well. A pious looking individual inspecs. He worked as if manual labour pained him, and was always studyingout of a musty little book. He was desperately keen to learn English andspoke it on every possible occasion; was intensely stupid as an orderlyand obstinate as a mule. He was trying in the extreme. One day he toldme he was intended for higher things and would soon be a priest in theChurch. Sister Lampen, who was so quick and thorough herself, found himparticularly tiresome, and used to refer to him as her "cross" in life!One day she called him to account, and, in an exasperated voice said, "What are you supposed to be doing here, Louis, anyway? Are you anorderly or aren't you?" "_Mees_, " he replied piously, rolling his eyesupwards, "I am learning to be a father!" I gave a shriek of delight andhastened up to tea in the top room with the news. 

We were continually having what was known as _alertes_, that the Germanswere advancing on the town. We had boxes ready in all the Wards with alist on the lid indicating what particular dressings, etc. , went ineach. None of the _alertes_, however, materialized. We heard later itwas only due to a Company of the gallant Buffs throwing themselves intothe breach that the road to Calais had been saved. 

There were several exciting days spent up at our Dressing Station atHoogstadt, and one day to our delight we heard that three of theF. A. N. Y. 's, who had been in the trenches during a particularly badbombardment, were to be presented with the Order of Leopold II. A dailypaper giving an account of this dressing station headed it, in theirenthusiasm, "Ten days without a change of clothes. Brave YeomanryNurses!"

It was a coveted job to post the letters and then go down to the Quay towatch the packet come in from England. The letters, by the way, wereposted in the guard's van of a stationary train where Belgian soldierssorted and despatched them. I used to wonder vaguely if the train rushedoff in the night delivering them. 

There was a charm and fascination about meeting that incoming boat; therattle of chains, the clang as the gangway was fixed, the strange criesof the French sailors, the clicking of the bayonets as the cordon formedround the fussy passport officer, and lastly the excitement of watchingto see if there was a spy on board. The _Walmer Castle_ and the_Canterbury_ were the two little packets employed, and they havecertainly seen life since the war began. Great was our excitement if wecaught sight of Field Marshal French on his way to G. H. Q. , or KingAlbert, his tall form stooping slightly under the cares of State, as hestepped into his waiting car to be whirled northwards to _La Panne_. 

The big Englishman (accompanied by a little man disguised in very plainclothes as a private Detective) also scanned every passenger closely ashe stepped on French soil, and we turned away disgustedly as each wasable to furnish the necessary proof that he was on lawful business. "Come, Struttie, we must fly, " and back we hurried over the bridge, pastthe lighthouse, across the Place d'Armes, up the Rue de la Rivière andso to Hospital once more. 

When things became more settled, definite off times were arranged. Up tothen sisters and nurses had worked practically all day and every day, sogreat was the rush. We experienced some difficulty in having baths, asthere were none up at the "Shop. " Dr. Cools from the Gare Centrale toldus some had been fitted in a train down there, and permission wasobtained for us to use them. But first we were obliged to presentourselves to the Commandant (for the Railway shed there had been turnedinto an _Hôpital de Passage_, where the men waited on stretchers tillthey were collected each morning by ambulances for the differentHospitals), and ask him to be kind enough to furnish a _Bon pour unbain_ (a bath pass)! When I first went to the Bureau at the gare and sawthis Commandant in his elegant tight-fitting navy blue uniform, withpointed grey beard and general air of importance, I felt that to ask himfor a "bath ticket" was quite the last thing on earth! He saw myhesitation, and in the most natural manner in the world said with a bow, "Mademoiselle has probably come for _un bon_?" I assented gratefully, was handed the pass and fled. It requires some courage to face fourofficials in order to have a bath. 

Arrived at the said train, one climbed up a step-ladder in to a truckdivided into four partitions, and Ziské, a deaf old Flamand, carriedbuckets of boiling water from the engine and we added what cold wewanted ourselves. You will therefore see that when anyone asked you whatyou were doing in your free time that day and you said you were "goingto have a bath, " it was understood that it meant the whole afternoonwould be taken up. 

At first we noticed the French people seemed a little stiff in theirmanner and rather on the defensive. We wondered for some time what couldbe the reason, and chatting one day with Madame at the dug-out Imentioned the fact to her. 

"See you, Mademoiselle, it is like this, " she explained, "you others, the English, had this town many years ago, and these unlettered ones, who read never the papers and know nothing, think you will takepossession of the town once again. " Needless to say in time thisimpression wore off and they became most friendly. 

The Place d'Armes was a typical French marketplace and very picturesque. At one corner of the square stood the town hall with a turret and a verypretty Carillon called "Jolie Annette, " since smashed by a shell. Iasked an old shopkeeper why the Carillon should be called by that nameand he told me that in 1600 a well-to-do _commerçant_ of the town hadbuilt the turret and promised a Carillon only on the condition that itshould be a line from a song sung by a fair lady called "Jolie Annette, "performing at a music hall or Café Chantant in the town at that time. The inhabitants protested, but he refused to give the Carillon unless hecould have his own way, which he ultimately did. Can't you imagine theoutraged feelings of the good burghers? "_Que voulez-vous, Mademoiselle_, " the old man continued, shrugging his shoulders, "_JolieAnnette ne chante pas mal, hein?_" and I agreed with him. 

I thought it was rather a nice story, and I often wondered, when Iheard that little song tinkling out, exactly what "Jolie Annette" reallylooked like, and I quite made up my mind on the subject. Of course shehad long side curls, a slim waist, lots of ribbons, a very full skirt, white stockings, and a pair of little black shoes, and last but notleast, a very bewitching smile. It is sad to think that a shell hassilenced her after all these years, and I hope so much that someone willrestore the Carillon so that she can sing her little song once again. 

In one corner of the square was a house (now turned into a furnitureshop) where one of the F. A. N. Y. 's great-grandmothers had stayed whenfleeing with the Huguenots to England. They had finally set off acrossthe Channel in rowing boats. Some sportsmen!

Market days on Saturdays were great events, and little booths filled upthe whole _place_, and what bargains one could make! We bought all theavailable flowers to make the wards as bright as possible. In theafternoons when there was not much to do except cut dressings, I oftensat quietly at my table and listened to the discussions which went on inthe ward. The Belgian soldier loves an argument. 

One day half in French, and half in Flemish, they were discussing whatcourse they would pursue if they found a wounded German on thebattlefield. "_Tuez-le comme un lapin_, " cried one. "_Faut leszigouiller tous_, " cried another (almost untranslatable slang, butmeaning more or less "choke the lot"). "_Ba, non, sauvez-le p'is qu'ilest blessé_, " cried a third to which several agreed. This discussionwaxed furious till finally I was called on to arbitrate. One boy wasrapidly working himself into a fever over the question. He was out tokill any Boche under any conditions, and I don't blame him. This was hisstory:

In the little village where he came from, the Germans on entering hadtreated the inhabitants most brutally. He was with his old father andmother and young brother of eight--(It was August 1914 and his class hadnot yet been called up). Some Germans marched into the little cottageand shaking the old woman roughly by the arm demanded something todrink. His mother was very deaf and slow in her movements and took sometime to understand. "Ha, " cried one brute, "we will teach you to walkmore quickly, " and without more ado he ran his sword through her poorold body. The old man sprang forward, too late to save her, and met withthe same fate. The little brother had been hastily hidden in an emptycistern as they came in. "Thus, Mademoiselle, " the boy ended, "I haveseen killed before my eyes my own father and mother; my little brotherfor all I know is also dead. I have yet to find out. I myself was takenprisoner, but luckily three days later managed to escape and join ourarmy; do you therefore blame me, _Miske_, if I wish to kill as many ofthe swine as possible?" He sank back literally purple in the face withrage, and a murmur of sympathy went round the Ward. His wound was not aserious one, for which I was thankful, or he might have done some harm. One evening I was wandering through the "Place d'Armes" when someviolins in a music shop caught my eye. I went in and thus becameacquainted with the family Tétar, consisting of an old father and histwo daughters. They were exceedingly friendly and allowed me to try allthe violins they had. At last I chose a little "Mirecourt" with a verynice tone, which I hired and subsequently bought. 

In time Monsieur Tétar became very talkative, and even offered to playaccompaniments for me. He had an organ in a large room above the shopcram full of old instruments, but in the end he seemed to think it mightshow a want of respect to Madame his late wife (now dead two years), sothe accompanying never came off. For the same reason his daughter, whohe said "in the times" had played the violin well, had never touched herinstrument since the funeral. 

 * * * * *

There was one special song we heard very often rising up from the CaféChantant, in the room at the dug-out. When I went round there to havesupper with them we listened to it entranced. It was a priceless tune, very catching and with lots of go; I can hear it now. I was determinedto try and get a copy, and went to see Monsieur Tétar about it one day. I told him we did not know the name, but this was the tune and hummed itaccordingly. A French Officer looking over some music in a cornerbecame convulsed and hurriedly ducked his head into the pages, and Ibegan to wonder if it was quite the thing to ask for. 

Monsieur Tétar appeared to be somewhat scandalized, and exclaimed, "Iknow it, Mademoiselle, that song calls itself _Marie-Margot laCantinière_, but it is, let me assure you, of a certainty not for theyoung girls!" No persuasion on my part could produce it, so ouracquaintance with the fair _Marie-Margot_ went no further than the tune. 

The extreme gratitude of the patients was very touching. When they leftfor Convalescent homes, other Hospitals, or to return to the trenches, we received shoals of post cards and letters of thanks. When they cameon leave they never failed to come back and look up the particular_Miske_ who had tended them, and as often as not brought a souvenir ofsome sort from _là bas_. 

One man to whom I had sent a parcel wrote me the following letter. Imight add that in Hospital he knew no English at all and had taughthimself in the trenches from a dictionary. This was his letter:

 "My lady" (Madame), "The beautiful package is safely arrived. I thank you profoundly from all my heart. The shawl (muffler) is at my neck and the good socks are at my feet as I write. Like that one has well warmth. 

 "We go to make some café also out of the package, this evening in our house in the trenches, for which I thank you again one thousand times. 

 "Receive, my lady, the most distinguished sentiments on the part of your devoted

 "JEAN PROMPLER, "1st Batt. Infanterie, "12th line Regiment. "

I remember my first joy-ride so well. "Uncle" took Porter and myself upto St. Inglevert with some stores for our small convalescent home, ofwhich more anon. 

Before proceeding further, I must here explain who "Uncle" was. Hejoined the Corps in 1914 in response to an advertisement from us in the_Times_ for a driver and ambulance, and was accepted immediately. He wasover military age, and had had his Mors car converted into an ambulancefor work at the front, and went up to Headquarters one day to make finalarrangements. There, to his intense surprise, he discovered that the"First Aid Nursing Yeomanry" was a woman's, and not a man's show as hehad at first supposed. 

He was so amused he laughed all the way down the Earls Court Road!

He bought his own petrol from the Belgian _Parc d'Automobiles_, and, when he was not driving wounded, took as many of the staff for joy-ridesas he could. 

The blow in the fresh air was appreciated by us perhaps more than heknew, especially after a hard morning in the typhoid wards. 

The day in question was bright and fine and the air, when once we hadleft the town and passed the inevitable barriers, was clear andinvigorating, like champagne. We soon arrived at St. Inglevert, whichconsisted of a little Church, an _Estaminet_, one or two cottages, the_curé's_ house, and a little farm with parish room attached. The latterwas now used as a convalescent home for our typhoid patients until theywere strong enough to take the long journey to the big camp in the Southof France. The home was run by two of the F. A. N. Y. S for a fortnight at atime. It was no uncommon sight to see them on the roads taking thepatients out "in crocodile" for their daily walk! Many were the curiousglances cast from the occupants of passing cars at the two khaki-cladEnglish girls, walking behind a string of sick-looking men in uniform. Probably they drove on feeling it was another of the unsolved mysteriesof the war!

We found Bunny struggling with the stove in the tiny kitchen, where shesoon coaxed the kettle to boil and gave us a cup of tea. Before ourreturn journey to Hospital we were introduced to the Curé of St. Inglevert, who was half Irish and half French. He spoke English well andgave a great deal of assistance in running the home, besides being bothwitty and amusing. 

We visited the men who were having tea in their "refectory" underCicely's supervision, and once more returned to work at Lamarck. 

CHAPTER IX

TYPHOIDS AGAIN, AND PARIS IN 1915

I was on night duty once more in the typhoid wards with Sister Moringwhen we had our third bad Zeppelin raid, which was described in thepapers as "the biggest attempted since the beginning of the war. " Itcertainly was a wonderful sight. 

The tocsin was rung in the _Place d'Armes_ about 11. 30 p. M. Followed byheavy gunfire from our now more numerous defences. Almost simultaneouslybomb explosions could be heard. We hastily wrapped up what patients werewell enough to move, and the orderlies carried them to the "cave. "Returning across the yard one of them called out that there were threeZeppelins this time, but though the searchlights were playing, we saw nosign of them, and presently the "all clear" was sounded. 

We had just got the patients from the _cave_ back into bed again whenhalf an hour later a second alarm was heard. Our feelings on hearingthis could only be described as "terse, " a favourite F. A. N. Y. Expression. If only the brutes would leave Hospitals alone instead ofupsetting the patients like this. 

The sky presented a wonderful spectacle. Half a dozen searchlights wereplaying, and shells were continually bursting in mid-air with a dullroar. On our way back from the _cave_ where we had again deposited thepatients, the searchlights suddenly focussed all three Zeppelins. Therethey were like huge silver cigars gleaming against the stars. Theylooked so splendid I couldn't help wishing I was up in one. It seemedimpossible to connect death-dealing bombs with those floating silvershapes. Shrapnel burst all round them, and then the Zepps. Seemedsuddenly to become alive, and they answered with machine guns, and thepatter of bullets and shrapnel could be heard all around. The Commanderof one of the Zepps. Apparently fearing his airship might be hit, musthave given the order for all the bombs to be heaved overboard at once, for suddenly twenty-one fell simultaneously! You can imagine what asight it was to see those golden balls of fire falling through the airfrom the silver airship. They fell in a field just outside the town neara little village called _Les Barraques_, the total bag being five cows!

In spite of the three Zeppelins the Huns only succeeded in killing ababy and an old lady. At last they were successfully driven off, and wesettled down hoping our excitements were over for the night, but no, at3. 30 a. M. The tocsin again rang out a third alarm! This was gettingbeyond a joke. The air duel recommenced, bombs were dropped, butfortunately no serious casualties occurred. Luckily at that time none ofthe patients were in a serious condition, so we felt that for once theHun had been fairly considerate. It was surprising to find thecomparatively little damage the town had suffered. We had several othersafter this, but they are not worth recording here. 

One patient we had at that time was a Dutchman who had joined theBelgian Army in 1914. He was a very droll fellow, and told me he was theclown at one of the Antwerp Theatres and kept the people amused whilethe scenes were being changed. I can quite believe this, for shouts oflaughter could always be heard in his vicinity. He was very good atimitating animals, and I discovered later that among otheraccomplishments he was also a ventriloquist. Sister and I, when thenecessary feeds had been given, used to sit in two deck chairs with ascreen shading the light, near the stove in the middle ward, until thenext were due. One night I heard a cat mewing. It seemed to be almostunder my chair, I got up and looked everywhere. Yes, there it was again, but this time coming from under one of the men's beds. It was a piteousmew, and I was determined to find it. I spent a quarter of an hour ontiptoe looking everywhere. It was not till I heard a stifled chucklefrom the bed next the Dutchman's that I suspected anything, and then, determined they should get no rise out of me, sat down quietly in mychair again. Though that cat mewed for the next ten minutes I neverturned an eyelash!

I liked night duty very much, there was something exhilarating about it, probably because I was new to it, and probably also because I slept likea top in the daytime (when I didn't get up, breathe it quietly, to stealout for rides on the sands!). I liked the walk across the yard with thegaunt old Cathedral showing black against the purple sky, its poor Eastwindow now tied up with sacking. 

One night about 1 a. M. I came in from supper in my flat soft feltslippers, and from sheer joy of living executed, quite noiselessly, afew steps for Sister's benefit down the middle of the Ward! It was agreat temptation, and needless to say not appreciated by Sister as muchas I had hoped. I heard subdued clapping from the clown's bed, and therewas the wretch wide awake (he was not unlike Morton to look at), sittingup in bed and grinning with joy!

The next morning as I was going off duty he called me over to him. "_He, Miske Kinike_, " he said, in his funny half Dutch, half Flemish, "ifafter the war you desire something to do I will arrange that you appearwith me before the curtain goes up, at the Antwerp Theatre!" He made theoffer in all seriousness, and realizing this, I replied I wouldcertainly think the proposition over, and fled across to have breakfastand tell them my future had been arranged for most suitably. 

The rolls, the long French kind, were brought each morning in "Flossie, "by the day staff on their way up from the "shop" referred to in aF. A. N. Y. Alphabet as

 "R's for the 'Roll-call'"--a terrible fag-- "Fetching six yards of bread, done up in a bag!"

The other meals were provided by the Belgians and supplemented to agreat extent by us. I am quite convinced we often ate good old horse. One day, when prowling round the shops to get something fresh for thenight staff's supper, I went into a butcher's. The good lady cameforward to ask me what I wished. I told her; and she smiled agreeably, saying, "Impossible, Mademoiselle, since long time we have only horsehere for sale!" I got out of that shop with speed. 

The orderlies on night duty, on the surgical side, were a lazy lot andslept the whole night through, more often than not on the floor of thekitchen. One night the incomparable "Jefké, " who was worse than most, was fast asleep in a dark spot near the big stove, when I went to getsome hot water. He was practically invisible, so I narrowly missedstepping on his head, and, as it was, collapsed over him, breaking thetea-pot. Cicely, the ever witty, quickly parodied one of the "RuthlessRhymes, " and said:--

 "Pat who trod on Jefké's face (He was fast asleep, so let her, ) Put the pieces back in place, Saying, 'Don't you think he looks _much_ better'?"

(I can't vouch for the truth of the last line. )

One day when up at the front we attended part of a concert given by theObservation Balloon Section in a barn, candles stuck in bottles the onlyilluminations; we were however obliged to leave early to go on to thetrenches. Outside in the moonlight, which was almost as light as day, wefound the men busy sharpening their bayonets. 

Another day up at Bourbourg, where we had gone for a ride, on a preciousafternoon off, we saw the first camouflaged field hospital run byMillicent, Duchess of Sutherland, for the Belgians--the tents were weirdand wonderful to behold, and certainly defied detection from a distance. 

Heasy and I were walking down the _Rue_ one afternoon, which was theBond Street of this town, when the private detective aforementioned cameup and asked to see our identification cards. These we were alwayssupposed to carry about with us wherever we went. Besides the hospitalstamp and several others, it contained a passport photo and signature. Of course we had left them in another pocket, and in spite ofprotestations on our part we were requested to proceed to the citadel orreturn to hospital to be identified. To our mortification we werefollowed at a few yards by the detective and a soldier! Never have Ifelt such an inclination to take to my heels. As luck would have it, teawas in progress in the top room, and they all came down _en masse_ tosee the two "spies. " The only comfort we got, as they all talked andlaughed at our expense, was to hear one of the detectives softlymurmuring to himself, "Has anyone heard of the Suffragette movementhere?"

We learnt later that Boche spies disguised in our uniform had been seenin the vicinity of the trenches. That the Boche took an interest in ourCorps we knew, for, in pre-war days, we had continually receivedapplications from German girls who wished to become members. Needless tosay they were never accepted. 

The first English troops began to filter into the town about this time, and important "red hats" with brassards bearing the device "L. Of C. "walked about the place as if indeed they had bought every stone. 

Great were our surmises as to what "L. Of C. " actually stood for, onesuggestion being "Lords of Creation, " and another, "Lords of Calais"! Itwas comparatively disappointing to find out it only stood for "Lines ofCommunication. "

English people have a strange manner of treating their compatriots whenthey meet in a foreign country. You would imagine that under thecircumstances they would waive ceremony and greet one another inpassing, but no, such is not the case. If they happen to pass in thesame street they either look haughtily at each other, with apparentlythe utmost dislike, or else they gaze ahead with unseeing eyes. 

We rather resented this "invasion, " as we called it, and felt we couldno longer flit freely across the Place d'Armes in caps and aprons asheretofore. 

In June of 1915, my first leave, after six months' work, was due. Instead of going to England I went to friends in Paris. The journey wasan adventure in itself and took fourteen hours, a distance that in peacetime takes four or five. We stopped at every station and very often inbetween. When this occurred, heads appeared at every window to find outthe reason. _"Qu' est ce qu'il y'a?"_ everyone cried at once. It wasinvariably either that a troop train was passing up the line and we mustwait for it to go by, or else part of the engine had fallen off. In thecase of the former, the train was looked for with breathless interestand handkerchiefs waved frantically, to be used later to wipe away afurtive tear for those _brave poilus_ or "Tommees" who were going tofight for _la belle France_ and might never return. 

If it was the engine that collapsed, the passengers, with a resignedexpression, returned to their seats, saying placidly: "_C'est laguerre, que voulez-vous_, " and no one grumbled or made any othercomment. With a grunt and a snort we moved on again, only to stop alittle further up the line. I came to the conclusion that that rottenengine must be tied together with string. No one seemed to mind orworry. "He will arrive" they said optimistically, and talked of otherthings. At every station fascinating-looking _infirmières_ from theFrench Red Cross, clad in white from top to toe, stepped into thecarriage jingling little white tin boxes. "_Messieurs, Mesdames, pourles blessés, s'il vous plaît_, "[8] they begged, and everyone fumbledwithout a murmur in their pockets. I began with 5 francs, but by thetime I'd reached Paris I was giving ha' pennies. 

At Amiens a dainty Parisienne stepped into the compartment. She was cladin a navy blue _tailleur_ with a very smart pair of high navy blue kidboots and small navy blue silk hat. The other occupants of the carriageconsisted of a well-to-do old gentleman in mufti, who, I decided, was a_commerçant de vin_, and two French officers, very spick and span, obviously going on leave. _La petite dame bien mise_, as I christenedher, sat in the opposite corner to me, and the following conversationtook place. I give it in English to save translation:

After a little general conversation between the officers and the old_commerçant_ the latter suddenly burst out with:--"Ha, what I would likewell to know is, do the Scotch soldiers wear the _pantalons_ or do theynot?" Everyone became instantly alert. I could see _la petite dame bienmise_ was dying to say something. The two French officers addressedshrugged their shoulders expressive of ignorance in the matter. Afterfurther discussion, unable to contain herself any longer, _la petitedame_ leant forward and addressing herself to the _commerçant_, said, "Monsieur, I assure you that they do _not_!"

The whole carriage "sat up and took notice, " and the old _commerçant_, shaking his finger at her said:

"Madame, if you will permit me to ask, that is, if it is not indiscreet, how is it that you are in a position to know?"

The officers were enjoying themselves immensely. _La petite dame_hastened to explain. "Monsieur, it is that my window at Amiens sheoverlooks the ground where these Scotch ones play the football, and thena good little puff of wind and one sees, but of course, " she concludedvirtuously, "I have not regarded, Monsieur. "

They all roared delightedly, and the old _commerçant_ said something tothe effect of not believing a word. "Be quiet, Monsieur, I pray of you, "she entreated, "there is an English young girl in the corner and shewill of a certainty be shocked. " "_Bah, non_, " replied the old_commerçant_, "the English never understand much of any language buttheir own" (I hid discreetly behind my paper). 

As we neared Paris there was another stop before the train went over thetemporary bridge that had been erected over the Oise. We could still seethe other that had been blown up by the French in order to stem theGerman advance on Paris in August 1914. This shattered bridge brought ithome to me how very near to Paris the Boche had been. 

As I stepped out of the Gare du Nord all the people were lookingskywards at two Taubes which had just dropped several bombs. Somewelcome, I thought to myself!

Paris in War time at that period (June, 1915) wore rather theappearance of a deserted city. Every third shop had notices on the doorsto the effect that the owners were absent at the war. Others were beingrun by the old fathers and mothers long since retired, who had come upfrom the country to "carry on. " My friend told me that when she hadreturned to Paris in haste from the country, at the beginning of thewar, there was not a taxi available, as they were all being used to rushthe soldiers out to the battle of the Marne. Fancy taxi-ing to abattlefield!

The Parisians were very interested to see a girl dressed in khaki, anddiscussed each item of my uniform in the Métro quite loudly, evidentlyunder the same impression as the old _commerçant_! My field boots tooktheir fancy most. _"Mon Dieu!"_ they would exclaim. "Look then, shewears the big boots like a man. It is _chic_ that, hein?"

In one place, an old curiosity shop in the Quartier St. Germain, thewoman was so thrilled to hear I was an _infirmière_ she insisted on mekeeping an old Roman lamp I was looking at as a souvenir, because hermother had been one in 1870. War has its compensations. 

I also discovered a Monsieur Jollivet at Neuilly, a job-master who had afew horses left, among them a little English mare which I rode. We wentin the Bois nearly every morning and sometimes along the race course atLongchamps, the latter very overgrown. "Ah, Mademoiselle, " he wouldexclaim, "if it was only in the ordinary times, how different would allthis look, and how Mademoiselle would amuse herself at the races!"

One day walking along near the "Observatoire" an old nun stopped me, andin broken English asked how the war was progressing. (The people in theshops did too, as if I had come straight from G. H. Q. !) She then went onto tell me that she was Scotch, but had never been home for thirty-fiveyears! I could hardly believe it, as she talked English just as aFrenchwoman might. She knew nothing at all as to the true position ofaffairs, and asked me to come in to the Convent to tea one day, which Idid. 

They all clustered round me when I went, asking if I had met theirrelation so-and-so, who was fighting at the front. They were frightfullydisappointed when I said "No, I had not. "

I went to their little chapel afterwards, and later on, the ReverendMother, who was so old she had to be supported on each side by two nuns, came to a window and gave me her blessing. My Scotch friend before Ileft pressed a little oxidized silver medal of the Virgin into my hand, which she assured me would keep me in safety. I treasured it after thatas a sort of charm and always had it with me. 

A few days later I was introduced to Warneford, V. C. , the man who hadbrought down the first Zeppelin. He had just come to Paris to receivethe _Légion d'Honneur_ and the _Croix de Guerre_, and was being fêtedand spoilt by everybody. He promised towards the end of the week, whenhe had worked off some of his engagements, to take me up--strictlyagainst all rules of course--for a short flight. I met him on theMonday, I think, and on the Wednesday he crashed while making a trialflight, and died after from his injuries, in hospital. It seemedimpossible to believe when first I heard of it--he was so full of lifeand high spirits. 

We went to Versailles one day. The loneliness and general air ofdesertion that overhang the place seemed more intensified by the warthan ever. The grass had grown very long, the air was sultry, and not aripple stirred the calm surface of the lake. It seemed somehow very likethe Palace of a Sleeping Beauty. I wondered if the ghost of MarieAntoinette ever revisited the Trianon or flitted up and down the woodensteps of the miniature farm where she had played at being a dairymaid?

As we wended our way back in the evening, the incessant croaking of thefrogs in the big lake was the only sound that broke the stillness. Therewas something sinister about it as if they were croaking "We are theonly creatures who now live in this beautiful place, and it is we, withour ugly voices and bodies, who have triumphed over the beautiful vainladies who threw pebbles at us long ago from the terraces. "--We turnedaway, and the croaking seemed to become more triumphant and echoed inour ears long after we had left the vicinity. 

At night, in Paris, aeroplanes flew round and round the city on scoutduty switching on lights at intervals that made them look liketravelling stars. They often woke one up, and the noise of the engineswas so loud it seemed sometimes as if they must fly straight throughone's window. I used to love to get up early and go down to "LesHalles, " the French Covent Garden, and come back with literally armfulsof roses of all shades of delicate pink, white, and cream. Tante Rose(the only name I ever knew her by) was a widow, and the aunt of myfriend. She was one of the _vieille noblesse_ and had a charming housein Passy, and was as interesting to listen to as a book. She asked meone day if I would care to go with her to a Memorial Service at the_Sacré-Coeur_. Looking out of her windows we could see the churchdominating Paris from the heights of Montmartre, the mosque-likeappearance of its architecture gleaming white against the sky. 

At that moment the dying rays of the sun lit up the golden crosssurmounting it, and presently the whole building became a delicate rosepink and seemed almost to float above the city, all blue in the haze ofthe evening below. It was wonderful, and a picture I shall always carryin my mind. I replied I would love to go, and on the following day wetoiled up the dazzling white steps. The service was, I think, the mostimpressive I have ever attended. Crowds flocked to it, all or nearly allin that uniform of deep-mourning incomparably _chic_, incomparablyFrench, and gaining daily in popularity. Long before the service beganthe place was packed to suffocation. Tante Rose looked proudly round andwhispered to me, "Ah, my little one, you see here those who have giventheir all for France. " Indeed it seemed so on looking round at thosewhite-faced women; and how I wished that _some_ of the people inEngland, who had not been touched by the war, or who at that time (June, 1915) hardly realized there even was one, could have been present. 

During another visit to Tante Rose's I heard the following story from an_infirmière_. A wounded German was brought to one of the Frenchhospitals. In the bed adjoining lay a Zouave who had had his legamputated. The Boche asked for a drink of hot water, the hottestobtainable. When the Nurse brought it to him he took the glass, andwithout a word threw the scalding contents in her face! The Zouave whohad witnessed this brutal act, with a snarl of rage, leapt from his bedon to the German's and throttled him to death there and then. The other_blessés_ sat up in bed and cheered. "It is thus, " she continued calmly, "that our brave soldiers avenge us from these brutes. " I looked at heras she sat there so dainty in her white uniform, quite undismayed bywhat had taken place. It was just another of those little incidents thatgo to show the spirit of the French nation. 

Some American friends of mine took me over their hospital for Frenchsoldiers at Neuilly. It was most beautifully equipped from top tobottom, and I was especially interested in the dental department wherethey fitted men with false jaws, etc. Every comfort was provided, andsome of the patients were lying out on balconies under large umbrellas, smiling happily at all who passed. I sighed when I thought of themakeshifts we had _là bas_ at Lamarck. 

I also went to a sort of review held in the Bois of an _AmbulanceVolant_ (ambulance unit to accompany a Battalion), given and driven byAmericans. They also had a field operating theatre. These drivers wereall voluntary workers, and were Yale and Harvard men who had come overto see what the "show" was really like. Some of them later joined theFrench Army, and one the famous "Foreign Legion, " and others went backto the U. S. A. To make shells. 

It was very interesting to hear about the "Foreign Legion. " In peacetime most of the people who join it are either fleeing from justice, orthey have no more interest in life and don't care what becomes of them. It is composed of dare-devils of all nationalities, and the disciplineis of the severest. They are therefore among the most fearless fightersin the world, and always put in a tight place on the French front. Thereis one man at the enlisting dépôt[9] who is a wonderful being, and can sizeup a new recruit at a glance. He is known as "Le Sphinx. " You must givehim your real name and reason for joining the Legion, and in exchange hegives you a number by which henceforth you are known. He knows thesecrets of all the Legion, and they are never divulged to a living soul;he never forgets, nor do they ever pass his lips. One of the mostcherished souvenirs I have is a plain brass button with the inscription"Légion Étrangère" printed round it in raised letters. 

As early as June, 1915, the French were showing what relics they hadbrought back from the battlefields. No better place than the"Invalides, " with Napoleon's tomb towering above, could have been chosenfor their display. Part of the courtyard was taken up by captured guns, and in two separate corners a "Taube, " and a German scout machine, withblack crosses on their wings, were tethered like captured birds. Therethe widows, leading their little sons by the hand, came dry-eyed to showyoung France what their fathers had died in capturing for the glory of_La Patrie_. 

"Dost thou know, Maman, " I heard one mite saying, "I would like well tomount astride that cannon there, " indicating a huge 7. 4, but the womanonly smiled the saddest smile I have ever seen, and drew him over togaze at the silvery remains of the Zeppelin that had been brought downon the Marne. 

The rooms leading off the corridors above were all filled with souvenirsand helmets, and in another, the captured flags of some of the mostfamous Prussian Regiments were spread out in all their glory of gold andsilver embroideries and tassels. 

We went on to see Napoleon's tomb, which made an impression on me whichI shall never forget. The sun was just in the right quarter. As weentered the building, the ante-room seemed purposely darkened to formthe most complete contrast with the inner; where the sun, streamingthrough the wonderful glass windows, shone with a steady shaft of bluelight, almost ethereal in colouring, down into the tomb where the greatEmperor slept. 

CHAPTER X

CONCERNING A CONCERT, CANTEEN WORK, HOUSEKEEPING, THE ENGLISH CONVOY, AND GOOD-BYE LAMARCK

When I returned to the hospital the "English Invasion" of the town wasan accomplished fact, and the Casino had been taken over as a hospitalfor our men. In the rush after Festubert, we were very proud to becalled upon to assist for the time-being in transporting wounded, as theBritish Red Cross ambulances had more than they could cope with. Thiswas the first official driving we did and was to lead to greater things. 

The heat that summer was terrific, so five of us clubbed together andrented a Chalet on the beach, which was christened _The Filbert_. Webathed in our off time (when the jelly fish permitted, for, whenever itgot extra warm, a whole plague of them infested the sea, and hot vinegarwas the only cure for their stinging bites; of course we only found thisout well on into the jelly-fish season!). We gave tea parties and supperparties there, weather and work permitting, and it proved the greatestboon to us after long hours in hospital. 

As we were never free to use it in the morning we lent it to somefriends, and one day a fearful catastrophe happened. Fresh water was ashard to get as in a desert, and the only way to procure any was to bribeFrench urchins to carry it in large tin jugs from a spring near theCasino. These people, one of whom was the big Englishman, after runningup from the sea used the water they saw in the jugs to wash the sand off(after all, quite a natural proceeding) and then, in all ignorance oftheir fearful crime, virtuously filled them up again, _but_ from thesea!

That afternoon Lowson happened to be giving a rather swell anddiplomatic tea party. Gaily she filled the kettle and set it on thestove and then made the tea. The Matron of the hospital took a sip andthe Colonel ditto, and then they both put their cups down--(I was notpresent, but as _my_ friends committed the crime, you may be sure Iheard all about it, and feel as if I had been). Of course the generallynumerous French urchins were nowhere in sight, and everyone went homefrom that salt-water tea party with a terrible thirst!

A Remount Camp was established at Fort Neuillay. It was an interestingfact that the last time the fort had been used was by English troopswhen that part of the coast was ours. One of the officers therepossessed a beagle called "Flanders. " She was one of the survivors ofthat famous pack taken over in 1914 that so staggered our allies. Oneglorious "half-day" off duty, riding across some fields we started abeautiful hare. Besides "Flanders" there was a terrier and a French dogof uncertain breed, and in two seconds the "pack" was in full cry after"puss, " who gave us the run of our lives. Unfortunately the hunt did notend there, as some French farmers, not accustomed to the rare sight ofhalf a couple and two mongrels hot after a hare scudding across theirfields, lodged a complaint! When the owner of the beagle was called upby the Colonel for an explanation he explained himself in this wise. 

"It was like this, Sir, the beagle got away after the hare, and wethought it best to follow up to bring her back. You see, Sir, don'tyou?"

"Yes, I _do_ see, " said the Colonel, with a twinkle. "Well, don't let ithappen again, or she must be destroyed. "

A Y. M. C. A. Was also established, and Mr. Sitters, the organiser, beggedus to get up a concert party and amuse the men. In those days LenaAshwell's parties were quite unknown, and the men often had to rely onthemselves for entertainment. Our free time was very precious, and wewere often so tired it was a great undertaking to organise rehearsals, but this Sergt. Wicks did, and very soon we had quite a good show going. 

One day Mr. Sitters obtained passes for us to go far up into the Englishlines, and for days beforehand rehearsals were held in the oddestplaces. [10] Up to the last minute we were on duty in the wards, and allthose who could gave a helping hand to get us off--seven in all, asmore could not be spared. It was pouring with rain, but we did not mind. We had had such a rush to get ready and collect such properties as weneeded that, as often happens on these occasions, we were all in thehighest spirits and the show was bound to go well. 

We sped along in the ambulance, "Uncle" driving, and picking up Mr. Sitters _en route_. Our only pauses were at the barriers of the town, and on we went again. We had been doing a good 35 and had slowed up topass some vehicles going over a bridge, when the pin came out of thesteering rod. If we had not slowed up I can't imagine there would havebeen much of the concert party left to perform!

We pulled up and began to look for it, hoping, as it had just happened, we might see it lying on the road. Luckily for us at that moment anEnglish officer drove up and stopped to see if he could be of any help. He heard where we were bound for, and, as time was getting on, instantlysuggested we should borrow his car and driver and he would wait until itcame back. Mr. Sitters was only too delighted to accept the offer as itwas getting so late. 

He suggested that four of us should get into the officer's car and goahead with him and begin the show, leaving the others to follow. We werea little dubious as our Lieutenant, Sister Lampen, and "Auntie" (theMatron) were over the brow of the hill searching for the missing pin!There seemed nothing else to be done, however, so in we all bundled. The officer was very sporting and wished us "good luck" as we sped offin his car. 

Farther along, as we got nearer the front, all the sentries were Englishwhich seemed very strange to us. Passing through a village where a lotof our troops were billeted they gazed in wonder and amazement at thesight of English girls in that district. 

One incident we thought specially funny--It may not seem particularly sonow, but when you think that for months past we had only had dealingswith French and Belgian soldiers, you will understand how it amused us. Outside an _Estaminet_ was a horse and cart partly across the road, andjust sufficiently blocking it. The driver called out to a Tommy loungingoutside the Inn to pull it over a little. He gave a truly British grunt, and went to the horse's head. Nothing happened for some seconds, and wewaited impatiently. Presently he reappeared. 

"Tied oop, " he said laconically, in a broad north country accent, andwashed his hands of the matter. How we laughed. Of course a Frenchmanwould have made the most elaborate apologies and explanations--a longconversation would have ensued, and finally salutes and bows exchanged, before we could have got on. "Tied oop" became quite a saying afterthat. 

A F. A. N. Y. Eventually coped with the matter, and on we went again. Atlast we espied some tents in the distance and struck off down a ruttylane in their direction. Here we said "good-bye" to our driverwondering if the other car did not turn up, just how we should get home. We plunged through mud that came well over the tops of our boots and, scrambling along some slippery duck boarding, arrived at the recreationtent. No sign of the other car, so we were obliged to draft out a freshprogramme in the meantime. 

We took off our heavy coats while two batmen used the back of theirclasp knives to scrape off the first layers of mud (hardly the mostattractive footlight wear) from our boots. We heard the M. C. Announcingthat the "Concert party" had arrived, and through holes in the canvas wecould see the tent was full to overflowing. Cheers greeted theannouncement, and we shivered with fright. There were hundreds there, and they had been patiently waiting for hours, singing choruses to passthe time. 

As we crawled through the canvas at the back of the stage they cheeredus to the echo. The platform was about the size of a dining table, whichrather cramped our style. We always began our shows with a topical song, each taking a verse in turn, and then all singing the chorus. Towardsthe end of our first song the Lieutenant and the others arrived. Theguns boomed so loudly at times the words were quite drowned. TheProgramme consisted of Recitations, Songs at the Piano, Solo Songs, Choruses, Violin, etc. ; and to my horror I found they counted on me todo charcoal drawings, described out of courtesy as "Lightningsketches!" (an art only developed and cultivated at the insistence ofSergt. Wicks, who had once discovered me doing some in the wards toamuse the men). There was nothing else for it, rolls of white paper wereproduced and pinned on a table placed on end, and off I started. I firstdrew them a typical Belgian officer with lots of Medals which broughtforth the remark that he "must have been through the South AfricanCampaign!" When I got to his boots, which I did with a good high lightdown the centre, someone called out "Don't forget the Cherry Blossomboot polish, Miss. " "What price, _Kiwi_?" etc. When he was finished theyyelled "Souvenir, souvenir, " so I handed it over amid great applause, and felt full of courage! The Crown Prince went down very well and I wasgrateful to him for having such a long nose. "We don't want him as nosouvenir, " they called--"Wish we drew our pay as fast as you draw littleWillie, Miss. " The Kaiser of course had his share, and in his firststages, to their great joy, evidently resembled one of their officers!(There's nothing Tommy enjoys quite so much as that. )

After the "Nut" before the war (complete in Opera hat and monocle) and"now" in khaki, I could think of nothing more, and boldly, but with sometrepidation, asked if any gentleman in the audience would care to bedrawn. You can imagine the scene. A tent packed with Tommies, everyavailable place taken up, and those who could not find seats sitting onthe floor right up to the edge of the stage. Yells of delight greetedthe invitation, and several made as if to come forward; finally, oneunfortunate was heaved up from the struggling mass on to the stage. Ialways noticed after this that whenever I offered to draw anyone it wasalways a man with absolutely _no_ particularly "salient" feature (Ithink that is the term) who presented himself. This individual couldbest be described as "sandy" in appearance, there was simply _nothing_about him to caricature, I thought in despair! The remarks from theaudience, which had been amusing before, now fairly bristled with wit, mostly of a personal nature. My subject became hotter and hotter as Iseized the charcoal pencil and set off. "Wot _would_ Liza say?" calledout one in a horrified voice. "Don't smile, mate, yer might 'urt yerfice, " called another. "Take 'is temperature, Miss, " they called, as theperspiration began to roll off him in positive rivulets, and "_Don't_forget 'is auburn 'air, " they implored. As the poor unfortunate had justbeen shorn like a lamb, preparatory to going into the trenches, this wasparticularly cutting. The remark, however, gave me an inspiration andthe audience yelled delightedly while I put a few black dots, very wideapart, to indicate the shortage. When finished we shook hands to showthere was no ill feeling, and quite cheerfully, with the expression of ahero, he bore his portrait off amid cheers from the men. 

The show ended with a song, _Sergeant Michael Cassidy_, which wasextremely popular at that time. For those who have not heard thisclassic, it might be as well to give one or two verses. We each had ourown particular one, and then all sang the chorus. 

 "You've heard of Michael Cassidy, a strapping Irish bhoy. Who up and joined the Irish guards as Kitchener's pride and joy; When on the march you'll hear them shout, 'Who's going to win the war?' And this is what the khaki lads all answered with a roar:

_Chorus_

 "Cassidy, Sergeant Michael Cassidy, He's of Irish nationality. He's a lad of wonderful audacity, Sergeant Michael Cassidy (bang), V. C. "

_Last Verse_

 "Who was it met a dainty little Belgian refugee And right behind the firing line, would take her on his knee? Who was it, when she doubted him, got on his knees and swore He'd love her for three years or the duration of the War?"

_Chorus_, etc. 

This was encored loudly, and someone called out for _Who's your ladyfriend?_ As there were not any within miles excepting ourselves, andcertainly none in the audience, it was rather amusing. 

We plunged through the mud again after it was all over and were taken tohave coffee and sandwiches in the Mess. We were just in time to see someof the men and wish them Good Luck, as they were being lined uppreparatory to going into the trenches. Poor souls, I felt glad we hadbeen able to do something to cheer them a little; and the guns, which wehad heard distinctly throughout the concert, now boomed away louder thanever. 

We had a fairly long walk back from the Mess to where the Mors car hadbeen left owing to the mud, and at last we set off along the dark andrutty road. 

One facetious French sentry insisted on talking English and flashing hislantern into the back of the ambulance, saying, "But I _will_ see theface of each Mees for fear of an espion. " He did so, murmuring"_jolie--pas mal--chic_, " etc. ! He finally left us, saying: "I am anofficer. Well, ladies, good-bye all!" We were convulsed, and off we slidonce more into the darkness and rain, without any lights, reaching homeabout 12, after a very amusing evening. 

Soon after this, we started our "Pleasant Sunday Evenings, " as we calledthem, in the top room of the hospital, and there from 8 to 9. 30 everySunday gave coffee and held impromptu concerts. They were a tremendoussuccess, and chiefly attended by the English. They were so popular wewere often at a loss for seats. Of real furniture there was very little. It consisted mostly of packing cases covered with army blankets andenormous _tumpties_ in the middle of the floor--these latter containedthe reserve store of blankets for the hospital, and excellent "pouffs"they made. 

Our reputation of being able to turn our hands to anything resulted inMr. Sitters--rushing in during 10 o'clock tea one morning with the newsthat two English divisions were going south from Ypres in a few days'time, and the Y. M. C. A. Had been asked by the Army to erect a temporarycanteen at a certain railhead during the six days they would take topass through. There were no lady helpers in those days, and he was athis wits' end to know where to find the staff. Could any of us bespared? None of us _could_, as we were understaffed already, butLieutenant Franklin put it to us and said if we were willing toundertake the canteen, as well as our hospital work, which would mean anaverage of only five hours sleep in the twenty-four--she had noobjection. There was no time to get fresh Y. M. C. A. Workers from Englandwith the delay of passports, etc. , and of course we decided to take iton, only too pleased to have the chance to do something for our own men. A shed was soon erected, the front part being left open facing therailway lines, and counters were put up. The work, which went on nightand day, was planned out in shifts, and we were driven up to the sidingin Y. M. C. A. Fords or any of our own which could be spared. Trains camethrough every hour averaging about 900 men on board. There was just timein between the trains to wash the cups up and put out fresh buns andchocolates. When one was in, there was naturally no time to wash thecups up at all, and they were just used again as soon as they wereempty. Canteen work with a vengeance! The whole of the Highlanddivision passed through together with the 37th. They sat in cattletrucks mostly, the few carriages there were being reserved for theofficers. It was amusing to notice that at first the men thought we wereFrench, so unaccustomed were they then to seeing any English girls outthere with the exception of army Sisters and V. A. D. S. 

"_Do chocolat, si voos play_, " they would ask, and were speechless withsurprise when we replied sweetly: "Certainly, which kind will you have?"

I asked one Scotchman during a pause, when the train was in for a longerinterval than usual, how he managed to make himself understood up theline. "Och fine, " he said, "it's not verra deefficult to _parley voo_. Igang into one o' them Estaminays to ask for twa drinks, I say 'twa' and, would you believe it, they always hand out three--good natured I callthat, but I hae to pay up all the same, " he added!

Naturally the French people thought he said _trois_. This storysubsequently appeared in print, I believe. 

One regiment had a goat, and Billy was let out for a walk and hadwandered rather far afield, when the train started to move on again. Luckily those trains never went very fast, but it was a funny sight tosee two Tommies almost throttling the goat in their efforts to drag italong, pursued by several F. A. N. Y. S (to make the pace), and give it afinal shove up into a truck!

Towards the end of that week the entire staff became exceedingly shorttempered. The loss of sleep combined with hospital work probablyaccounted for it; we even slept in the jolting cars on the way back. Wewere more than repaid though, by the smiles of the Tommies and thegratitude of the Y. M. C. A. , who would have been unable to run the canteenat all but for our help. 

It was at this period in our career we definitely became known as the"F. A. N. N. Y. S"--"F. A. N. Y. , " spelt the passing Tommy--"FANNY, " "I wonderwhat that stands for?"

"First anywhere, " suggested one, which was not a bad effort, we thought!

The following is an extract from an account by Mr. Beach Thomas in aleading daily:

"Our Yeomanry nurses who, among other work, drive, clean, and managetheir own ambulance cars, are dressed in khaki. Their skirts are short, their hats (some say their feet), are large! (this we thought hardlykind). They have done prodigies along the Belgian front. One of theirlatest activities has been to devise and work a peripatetic bath. Byingenious contrivances, tents, and ten collapsible baths, are packedinto a motor car which circulates behind the lines. The water is heatedby the engine in a cistern in the interior of the car and offers theluxury of a hot bath to several score men. "

This was our famous motor bath called "James, " and belonging to "Jimmy"Gamwell. She saw to the heating of the water and the putting up of thebaths, with their canvas screens sloping from the roof of the ambulanceand so forming at each side a bathroom annexe. A sergeant marshalled thesoldiers in at one end and in about ten minutes' time they emergedclean, rosy, and smiling at the other!

The article continued: "These women have run a considerable hospital andits ambulances entirely by themselves. The work has been voluntary. Bydoing their own household work, by feeding themselves at their ownexpense (except for a few supplementary Belgian Army rations), bydriving and cleaning their own cars, they have made such a success onthe economical side that the money laboriously collected in England hasall been spent on the direct service of the wounded, and not onestablishment charges. "

A Soup Kitchen brought out by Betty also belonged to our hospitalequipment. It did excellent work down at the Gare Centrale, providingthe wounded with hot soup on their arrival. Great was our excitementwhen it was commissioned by a battery up the line. Betty and Lewis setoff in high spirits, and had the most thrilling escapes and adventuresin the Ypres section that would alone fill a book. They were with theBattery in the early summer when the first gas attack swept over, andcaught them at "Hell fire Corner" on the Ypres-Menin road. It was theywho improvised temporary masks for the men from wads of cotton wool andlint soaked in carbolic. Luckily they were not near enough to beseriously gassed, but for months after they both felt the aftereffects. Even where we were, we noticed the funny sulphurous smell inthe air which seemed to catch one with a tight sensation in the throat, and the taste of sulphur was also perceptible on one's lips. We were tohave taken turns with the kitchen, but owing to this episode theauthorities considered the work too dangerous, and after beingcomplimented on their behaviour they returned to Lamarck. 

We had a lot of daylight Taube raids, Zeppelins for the moment confiningall their efforts to England. It was fascinating to watch the littleround white balls, like baby clouds, where the shrapnel burst in itsefforts to bring the marauders down. 

Very few casualties resulted from these raids and we rather enjoyedthem. One that fell on the Quay killed an old white horse; and a Frenchsailor found the handle of the bomb among the shrapnel near by andpresented it to me. It seemed odd to think that such a short whilebefore it had been in the hands of a Boche. 

Jan was a patient we had who had entirely lost his speech and memory. Wecould get nothing out of him but an expressive shrug of the shouldersand a smile. He was a good looking Belgian of about twenty-four; and itwas my duty to take him out by the arm for a short walk each morning totry and reawaken his interest in life. 

One day I saw the French Governor of the town coming along on horsebackfollowed by his _ordnance_ (groom). How could I make Jan salute, Iwondered? I knew the General was very particular about such things, andto all appearance Jan was a normal looking individual. "_Faut saluer leGénéral_, Jan, " I said, while he was still some distance away, but Janonly shrugged his shoulders as much as to say, "I might do it, but onthe other hand I might not!" What was I to do? As we drew nearer I againimplored Jan to salute. He shrugged his shoulders, so in desperation, just as we came abreast I put my arm behind him and seizing his, broughtit up to the salute! The General, whom I knew, seemed fearfully amusedas he returned it, and the next time we met he asked me if I was in thehabit of going for a walk arm in arm with Belgian soldiers, who had tobe made to salute in such a fashion?

One day we saw an aeroplane falling. At first it was hard to believe itwas not doing some patent stunt. Instead of coming down plumb as onewould imagine, it fell first this way and then that, like a piece ofpaper fluttering down from a window. As it got nearer the earth thoughwhere the currents of air were not so powerful, it plunged straightdownwards. Crowds witnessed the descent, and ran to the spot where ithad fallen. 

Greatly to their surprise the pilot was unhurt and the machine hardlydamaged at all. It had fallen just into the sea, and its wings werekeeping it afloat. The pilot was brought ashore in a boat, and when thetide went down a cordon of guards was placed round the machine till itwas removed. 

Bridget, our former housekeeper at the hospital, went home to England inthe autumn for a rest and I was asked to take on her job. I moved to thehospital and slept in the top room, behind our sitting-room, togetherwith the chauffeurs and Lieutenant Franklin. 

I had to see that breakfast was all right, and at 7. 30 lay the table inthe big kitchen, get the jam out of our store cupboard, make the tea, etc. Breakfast over, I had the top room to sweep and dust, the beds tomake, the linen to put out to air, and when that was done it was time toget "10 o'clocks" ready. After that I sallied forth armed with a bigbasket, a fat purse and a long list, and thoroughly enjoyed myself inthe market. 

In the afternoons there were always stacks of hospital mending to do, and then tea to get ready. Sometimes as many as twelve people--French, Belgian, or English--used to drop in, and it was no easy task to keepthat teapot going; however it was always done somehow. Luckily we had agas-ring, as it would have been an impossibility to run up and down thesixty-nine steps to the kitchen every time we wanted more hot water. 

At six the housekeeper had to prepare the evening meal for 7. 30, and theFlemish cooks looked on with great amusement at my concoctions--a lot ofit was tinned stuff, so the cooking required was of the simplest. Theyalways cooked the potatoes for me out of the kindness of their hearts. The reason they did not do the whole thing was that they were reallyoff duty at six, but one of them usually stayed behind and helped. 

Work at that time began to slacken off considerably. --A large huthospital for typhoids was built and the casualties diminished, partlybecause most of the Belgians had already been killed or wounded, andpartly because the remaining few had not much fighting to do except holdthe line behind the inundations. A faint murmur reached us that acomb-out was going to take place among the British Red Cross Ambulancedrivers, and we wondered who would replace them if they were sent up theline. 

The anniversary of the opening of Lamarck hospital took place on the31st October, 1915, and we had a tremendous gathering, French, English, and Belgians, described in the local rag as "_une réception intime, l'élite de tout ce que la ville renferme_!" The French Governor-Generalof the town, accompanied by two aides-de-camp, came in state. All theguests visited the wards, and then adjourned for tea to the top roomwhere the housekeeper had to perform miracles with the gas-ring. Aspeech of thanks was made to the Corps, and "Scrubby" (the typhoiddoctor) got up and in _quelques paroles émues_ added his tribute aswell. It was a most successful show and we thought the French Governorwould never depart, he seemed to enjoy himself so much!

Our next excitement was a big Allied concert given at the Theatre. Several performances had taken place there since the one I described, but this was the first time Belgians, French, and English hadcollaborated. 

Betty, who had been at Tree's School, was asked to recite, and I wasasked to play the violin. She also got up a one-act farce withLieutenant Raby. It is extremely hard to be a housekeeper for a hospitaland work up for a concert at the same time. The only place I couldpractise in was the storeroom and there, surrounded by tins of McVitie'sbiscuits and Crosse & Blackwell's jam, I resorted when I could snatch afew minutes!

At last the day of the concert arrived and we rattled up to the Theatrein "Flossie. " A fairly big programme had been arranged, and the threeAllies were well represented. There was an opera singer from Parisresplendent in a long red velvet dress, who interested me very much, shebehaved in such an extraordinary way behind the scenes. Before she wasdue to go on, she walked up and down literally snorting like awar-horse, occasionally bursting into a short scale, and then beatingher breast and saying, "_Mon Dieu, que j'ai le trac_, " which, beinginterpreted, means, approximately, "My God, but I have got the wind up!"I sat in a corner with my violin and gazed at her in wonder. Everythingwent off very well, and we received many be-ribboned bouquets andbaskets of flowers, which transformed the top room for days. 

All lesser excitements were eclipsed when we heard further rumours thatthe English Red Cross might take us over to replace the men driving forthem at that time. 

MacDougal and Franklin, our two Lieutenants, were constantly attendingconferences on the subject. 

At last an official requisition came through for sixteen ambulancedrivers to replace the men by January 1, 1916. You can imagine ourexcitement at the prospect. The very first women to drive Britishwounded officially! It was an epoch in women's work in France and theforerunner of all the subsequent convoys. 

Simultaneously an article appeared the 2nd December, 1915, headed"'Yeowomen, ' a triumph of hospital organisation, " which I may bepardoned for quoting:

"A complete unit with sixteen to twenty motor ambulances, organised, worked, and driven by women, will next month be added to the BritishArmy. 

"The women will drive their own cars and look after them in every way. One single male mechanic, and that is all, is to be attached to thewhole unit. These ambulances may of course be summoned from their campto hurry over any type of winter-worn road to the neighbourhood of thefiring line. 

"What strength, endurance, and pluck such work demands from women caneasily be understood by anyone who has ever tried to swing a car in coldweather or repair it by the roadside. 

"It is a very notable fact that for the first time under officialrecognition women have been allowed to share in what may be called amale department of warfare. 

"The Nursing Yeomanry have just extracted this recognition from the WarOffice and deserve every compliment that can be paid them; and thesuccess is worth some emphasis as one of a series of victories for womenworkers and organisations, at the top of which is, of course, theVoluntary Aid Detachment. 

"The actual work of these Yeomen nurses, who rode horseback to thedressing stations when no other means of conveyance were available, hasbeen in progress in France and Belgium almost since war was declared. Most of their work has been done in the face of every kind ofdiscouragement, but they were never dismayed. Their khaki uniforms onmore than one occasion in Ghent made German sentries jump. " (Mrs. MacDougal arranging for F. A. N. Y. Work[11] with the Belgians in September, 1914). 

"This feat of the 'Yeowomen'--who have struggled against a certainamount of ridicule in England since they started a horse ambulance andcamp some six or seven years ago--is worth emphasis because it is onlyone instance, striking but by no means unique, of the complete triumphof women workers during the past few months!"

 * * * * *

The next question was to decide who would go to the new English Convoy, and two or three left for England to become proficient in motormechanics and driving. 

I was naturally anxious after a year with the Allies, to work for theBritish, but as I could not be spared from housekeeping to go to EnglandI was dubious as to whether I could pass the test or not. Though I hadcome out originally with the idea of being a chauffeur, I had only doneodd work from time to time at Lamarck. "Uncle, " however, was veryhopeful and persuaded me to take the test in France before my leave wasdue. Accordingly, I went round to the English Mechanical Transport inthe town for the exam. , the same test as the men went through. I feltdistinctly like the opera lady at the concert. It was a very greasy dayand the road which we took was bordered on one side by a canal and onthe other by a deep and muddy ditch. As we came to a cross road theA. S. C. Lieutenant who was testing me, said, "There you see the markswhere the last man I tested skidded with his car. " "Yes, rather, howjolly!" I replied in my agitation, wondering if my fate would belikewise. We passed the spot more by luck than good management, and thenI reversed for some distance along that same road. At last I turned atthe cross roads, and after some traffic driving, luckily without anymishap, drove back to hospital. I was questioned about mechanics on theway, and at the end tactfully explained I was just going on leave andmeant to spend every second in a garage! I got out at the hospital gatesfeeling quite sure I had failed, but to my intense relief and joy hetold me I had passed, and he would send up the marks to hospital lateron. I jumped at least a foot off the pavement!

I went in and told the joyful news to Lieutenant Franklin, who was to beboss of the new Convoy, while Lieutenant MacDougal was to be head of theBelgian hospital, and of the unit down at the big Convalescent dépôt inthe S. Of France, at Camp de Ruchard, where Lady Baird and Sister Lovellsuperintended the hospital, and Chris and Thompson did the driving. 

It was sad to bid good-bye to Lamarck and the Belgians, but as theEnglish Convoy was to be in the same town it was not as if we shouldnever see them again. 

"Camille, " in Ward I, whose back had been broken when the dug-outcollapsed on him during a bombardment, hung on to my hand while thetears filled his eyes. He had been my special case when he firstarrived, and his gratitude for anything we could do for him wastouching. 

The Adjutant Heddebaud, who was the official Belgian head of thehospital, wrote out with many flourishes a panegyric of sorts thankingme for what I had done, which I duly pasted in my War Album; and so Isaid Good-bye to Lamarck and the Belgians, and left for England, December, 1915. 

CHAPTER XI

THE ENGLISH CONVOY

My second leave was spent for the most part at a garage in theneighbouring town near the village where we lived. I positively dreamtof carburettors, magnetoes, and how to change tyres! The remaining threeof my precious fourteen days were spent in London enjoying life andcollecting kit and such like. We were to be entirely under canvas in ournew camp, and as it was mid-winter you can imagine we made whatpreparations we could to avoid dying of pneumonia. 

The presentation of a fox terrier, "Tuppence, " by name, I hailed withdelight. When all else froze, he would keep me warm, I thought!

It may be interesting to members of the Corps to know the names of thosewho formed that pioneer Convoy. They are: Lieutenant Franklin, M. Thompson (Section Leader), B. Ellis, W. Mordaunt, C. Nicholson, D. Heasman, D. Reynolds, G. Quin, M. Gamwell, H. Gamwell, B. Hutchinson, N. F. Lowson, P. B. Waddell, M. Richardson, M. Laidley, O. Mudie-Cooke, P. Mudie-Cooke and M. Lean (the last three were new members). 

I met Lowson and Lean at Victoria on January 3, 1916, and between us wesmuggled "Tuppence" into the boat train without anyone seeing him;likewise through the customs at Folkestone. Arrived there we found thatmines were loose owing to the recent storms, and the boat was notsailing till the next day. Then followed a hunt for rooms, which we dulyfound but in doing so lost "Tuppence. " The rest of the time was spentlooking for him; and when we finally arrived breathless at the policestation, there was the intelligent dog sitting on the steps! I must hereconfess this was one of the few occasions he ever exhibited his talentsin that direction, and as such it must be recorded. He was so well bredthat sometimes he was positively stupid, however, he was beautiful tolook at, and one can't have everything in this world. 

The next morning the sea was still fairly rough; and I went in to theadjoining room to find that the gallant Lowson was already up andstirring, and had gone forth into the town in search of "Mother-sill. " Ilooked out at the sea and hoped fervently she would find some. 

We went on board at nine, after a good breakfast, and decided to stay ondeck. A sailor went round with a megaphone, shouting, "All lifebeltson, " and we were under way. 

I confided "Tuppence" to the care of the ship's carpenter and begged himto find a spare lifebelt for him, so that if the worst came to the worsthe could use it as a little raft!

We watched the two destroyers pitching black against the dashing sprayas they sped along on either side convoying us across. 

We arrived at Boulogne in time for lunch, and then set off for ourconvoy camp thirty kilometres away, in a British Red Cross touring carborrowed from the "Christol Hotel. "

We arrived there amid a deluge of rain, and the camp looked indeed asorry spectacle with the tents all awry in the hurricane that wasblowing. 

Bell tents flanked one side of the large open space where the ambulancesstood. A big store tent occupied another and the cook-house was in ashed at the extreme corner, with the Mess tent placed about as far fromit as possible! I fully appreciated this piece of staff work later. There were also a lot of bathing machines, which made me vaguely wonderif a Snark had once inhabited the place. 

 "The fourth (viz. Sign of a Snark) is its fondness for bathing machines Which it constantly carries about, And believes that they add to the beauty of scenes-- A sentiment open to doubt. "

My surmises were brought to an abrupt end. 

"Pat, dear old Pat. I say, old bird, you won't mind going into thecook-house for a bit, will you, till the real cook comes? You're sogood-natured (?) I know you will, old thing. "

Before I could reply, someone else said:

"That's settled then; it's perfectly ripping of you. "

"Splendid, " said someone else. Being the chief person concerned, Ihadn't had a chance to utter word of protest one way or the other!

When I _could_ gasp out something, I murmured feebly that I _had_thought I was going to drive a car, and had spent most of my leavesitting in a garage with that end in view. 

"Oh, yes, of course you are, old thing, but the other cook hasn't turnedup yet. Bridget (Laidlay) is worked off her feet, so we decided you'd bea splendid help to her in the meantime!"

There was nothing else for it. 

I discovered I was to share a tent with Quin, and dragged my kit over tothe one indicated. I found her wringing out some blankets and wasgreeted with the cheery "Hello, had a good leave? I say, old thing, yourbed's a pool of water. "

I looked into the tent and there it was sagging down in the middle withquite a decent sized pond filling the hollow! "What about keeping somegold fish?" I suggested, somewhat peevishly. 

Whatever happened I decided I couldn't sleep there that night, and withQuin's help tipped it up and spread it on some boxes outside, as the sunhad come out. 

That night I spent at Lamarck on a stretcher--it at least had the virtueof being dry if somewhat hard. 

When I appeared at the cook-house next morning with the words, "Pleasemum, I've come!" Bridget literally fell on my neck. She poured out thedifficulties of trying to feed seventeen hungry people, when they allcame in to meals at different hours, especially as the big stovewouldn't "draw. " It had no draught or something (I didn't know very muchabout them then). In the meantime all the cooking was done on a hugePrimus stove and the field kitchen outside. I took a dislike to thatfield kitchen the moment I saw it, and I think it was mutual. It neverlost an opportunity of "going out on me" the minute my back was turned. We were rather at a loss to know how to cope with our army rations atfirst. We all worked voluntarily, but the army undertook to feed andhouse (or rather tent) us. We could either draw money or rations, and atfirst we decided on the former. When, however, we realised the enormousprice of the meat in the French shops we decided to try rations instead, and this latter plan we found was much the best. Unfortunately, as wehad first drawn allowances it took some days before the change could beeffected, and Bridget and I had the time of our lives trying to makeboth ends meet in the meantime. That first day she went out shopping itwas my duty to peel the potatoes and put them on to boil, etc. Beforeshe left she explained how I was to light the Primus stove. Now, ifyou've never lit a Primus before, and in between the time you were toldhow to do it you had peeled twenty or thirty potatoes, got two scratchbreakfasts, swept the Mess tent and kept that field kitchen from goingout, it's quite possible your mind would be a little blurred. Mine was. When the time came, I put the methylated in the little cup at the top, lit it, and then pumped with a will. The result was a terrific roar anda sheet of flame reaching almost to the roof! Never having seen one inaction before, I thought it was possible they always behaved like thatat first and that the conflagration would subside in a few moments. Iwatched it doubtfully, arms akimbo. Bridget entered just then and, determined not to appear flustered, in as cool a voice as possible Isaid: "Is that all right, old thing?" She put down her parcels and, without a word, seized the stove by one of its legs and threw it on asand heap outside! Of course the field kitchen had gone out--(I can'tthink who invented that rotten inadequate grating underneath, anyway), and I felt I was not the bright jewel I might have been. 

Our Mess was a huge Indian tent rather out of repair, and, though it hada bright yellow lining, dusk always reigned within. The mugs, tinplates, and the oddest knives and forks constituted the "service. " Itwas windy and chilly to a degree, and one of the few advantages of beingin the cook-house was that one had meals in comparative warmth. 

My real troubles began at night when, armed with a heavy tray, I set offon the perilous journey across the camp to the Mess tent to lay thetable. There were no lights, and it was generally raining. The chiefthings to avoid were the tent ropes. As I left the cook-house I decidedexactly in my own mind where the bell-tent ropes extended, ditto thoseof the store tent and the Mess, but invariably, just as I thought I wasclear, something caught my ankle as securely as any snake, and down Icrashed on top of the tray, the plates, mugs, and knives scattering allaround. Luckily it was months since the latter had been sharp, or asteel proof overall would have been my only hope. Distances and thesupposititious length of tent ropes are inclined to be deceptive in thedark. Nothing will make me believe those ropes were inanimate--theyliterally lay in wait for me each night! When any loud crash was heardin camp it was always taken for granted it was "only Pat taking anothertoss. "

The wind, too, seemed to take a special delight in doing his bit. Ourcamp was situated on the top of a small hill quite near the sea, andsome of the only trees in the neighbourhood flourished there, protectedby a deep thorn hedge. This, however, ended abruptly where the drive leddown to the road. It was when I got opposite the opening where the windswept straight up from the sea my real tussle began. As often as not thetin plates were blown off the tray high into the air! It was then Irealized the value of a chin. Obviously it was meant to keep the lid onthe soup tureen and in this acrobatic attitude, my feet dodging the tentropes, I arrived breathless and panting at the door of the Mess tent. The oil lamp swinging on a bit of wire over the table was as welcome asight as an oasis in the desert. 

We had no telephone in those days, and orderlies came up from the Casinohospital and A. D. M. S. With buff slips when ambulances were wanted. Atthat time the cars, Argylls, Napiers, Siddeley-Deaseys, and a Crossley, inscribed "Frank Crossley, the Pet of Poperinghe, " were just parkedhaphazard in the open square, some with their bonnets one way and someanother--it just depended which of the two drives up to camp had beenchosen. It will make some of the F. A. N. Y. S smile to hear this, when theythink of the neat rows of cars precisely parked up to the dead straight, white-washed line that ultimately became the order of things!

The bathing machines had their uses, one near the cook-house acting asour larder, another as a store for spare parts, while several otherswere adopted by F. A. N. Y. S as their permanent abodes. One bore theinscription, "The Savoy--Every Modern Inconvenience!"

Some R. E. 's came to look at the big cook-house stove and decided it mustbe put on a raised asphalt sort of platform. Of course this took sometime, and we had to do all the cooking on the Primus. The field kitchen(when it went) was only good for hot water. We were relieved to see tinsof bully beef and large hunks of cheese arriving in one of the cars thefirst day we drew rations, "Thank heaven that at least required nocooking. " It was our first taste of British bully, and we thought it"really quite decent, " and so it was, but familiarity breeds contempt, and finally loathing. It was the monotony that did it. You would wearyof the tenderest chicken if you had it every other day for months. Asluck would have it, Bridget was again out shopping when, the dayfollowing, a huge round of raw beef arrived. How to cope, that was thequestion? (The verb "to cope" was very much in use at that period. )Obviously it would not fit into the frying pan. But something had to bedone, and done soon, as it was getting late. "They must just havechops, " I said aloud, in desperation, and bravely seizing that round ofbeef I cut seventeen squares out of it (slices would have taken toolong; besides, our knife wasn't sharp enough). 

They fried beautifully, and no one in the Mess was heard to murmur. Whenyou've been out driving from 7. 30 a. M. Hunger covers a multitude ofsins, and Bridget agreed I'd saved the situation. 

The beef when I'd finished with it looked exactly as if it had been in aworry. No _wonder_ cooks never eat what they've cooked, I thought. 

To our great disappointment an order came up to the Convoy that allcameras were to be sent back to England, and everyone rushed roundfrantically finishing off their rolls of films. Lowson appeared and tookone of the cook-house "staff" armed with kettles and more or lesscovered with smuts. It was rightly entitled, "The abomination ofdesolation"--when it came to be gummed into my War Album!

Quin was a great nut with our tent ropes at night, and though she hadnot been in camp before the war, assured me she knew all about them. Needless to say, I was only too pleased to let her carry on. 

When I rolled in at night after washing up in the cook-house she wouldsay: "You must come out and tighten the tent ropes with this galeblowing, it won't be funny if the whole thing blows over in the night. "But none of the horrors she depicted ever persuaded me to turn out onceI was safely tucked up in my "flea bag" with "Tuppence" acting as aweight to keep the top blankets in place. In the morning when I awokeafter a sound night's sleep, I would exclaim triumphantly: "There youare, 'Squig, ' what price the tent blowing down? It's as safe as a rockand hasn't moved an inch!"

"No?" the long-suffering "Squig" would reply bitterly, "it may interestyou to hear I've only been up _twice_ in the night hammering in the pegsand fixing the ropes!"

The only time I didn't bless her manipulation of these things was when Irose at 6. 30 a. M. , by which time they had been frozen stiff and shrunkto boot. The ones lacing the flap leading out of the tent were as hardto undo as if they had been made of iron. On these occasions "Tuppence, "who had hardly realized the seriousness of war, would wake up and wantme instantly to go out, half dressed as I was, and throw stones for hisbenefit! That dog had no sense of the fitness of things. If I did notcomply immediately he sat down, threw his head in the air, and "howledto the moon!" The rest of the camp did not appreciate this pastime; butif they had known my frenzied efforts with the stiffened ropes "Squig"had so securely fixed over-night, their sympathies would have been with, rather than against, me. 

One night we had a fearful storm (at least "Squig" told me of it in themorning and I had no reason to doubt her word), and just as I wasrolling out of bed we heard yells of anguish proceeding from one of theother tents. 

That one had collapsed we felt no doubt, and, rushing out in pyjamasjust as we were, in the wind and rain, we capered delightedly to thescene of the disaster. The Sisters Mudie-Cooke (of course it would betheir tent that had gone) were now hidden from sight under the heavymass of wet canvas on top of them. The F. A. N. Y. S, their hair flying inthe wind, looking more like Red Indians on a scalping expedition than asalvage party, soon extricated them, and they were taken, with whatclothes could be rescued, to another tent. Their fate, "Squig" assuredme, would have assuredly been ours had it not been for her!

Madame came into existence about this time. She was a poor Frenchwomanwhom we hired to come and wash the dishes for us. She had no teeth, wispy hair, and looked very underfed and starved. Her "man" had beenkilled in the early days of the war. Though she looked hardly strongenough to do anything, Bridget and I, who interviewed her jointly, hadnot the heart to turn her away, and she remained with us ever after andbecame so strong and well in time she looked a different woman. 

The Mess tent was at last moved nearer the cook-house (I had fallen overthe ropes so often that, quite apart from any feelings I had left, itwas a preventive measure to save what little crockery we possessed). 

The cars were all left in a pretty rotten condition, and the petrol wasnone too good. How Kirkby, the one mechanic, coped at that time, alwayswith a cheery smile, will never be known. As Winnie aptly remarked, "Inthese days there are only two kinds of beings in the Convoy--a "Bird"and a "Blighter"!"[12] Kirkby was decidedly in the "Bird" class. 

"Be a bird, and do such and such a thing, " was a common opening to arequest. Of course if you refused you were a "blighter" of the worstdescription. 

As you will remember, I was only in the cook-house as a "temporaryhelp, " and great was my joy when Logan (fresh from the Serbian campaign)loomed up on the horizon as the pukka cook. I retired gracefully--myonly regret being Bridget's companionship. Two beings could hardly havelaughed as much as we had done when impossible situations had arisen, and when the verb "to cope" seemed ineffective and life just one"gentle" thing after the other. 

I was given the little Mors lorry to drive. To say I adored that carwould not be exaggerating my feelings about it at all. The seat was mychief joy, it was of the racing variety, some former sportsman havingdone away with the tool box that had served as one! "Tuppy" alsoappreciated that lorry, and when we set off to draw rations, lyingalmost flat, the tips of his ears could just be seen from the front on aline with the top of my cap. 

One of my jobs was to take Sergeant McLaughlan to fetch the hospitalwashing from a laundry some distance out of the town. He was an old"pug, " but had grown too heavy to enter the ring, and kept his hand incoaching the promising young boxers stationed in the vicinity. Inconsequence, what I did not know about all their different merits wasnot worth knowing, and after a match had taken place every round wasdescribed in full. I grew quite an enthusiast. 

He could never bear to see another car in front without trying to passit. "Let her rip, Miss, " he would implore--"Don't be beat by themFrenchies. " Needless to say I did not need much encouragement, andnothing ever passed us. (There are no speed limits in France. ) There wasa special hen at one place we always tried to catch, but it was a wilybird and knew a thing or two. McLaughlan was dying to take it home tothe Sergeants' Mess, but we never got her. 

One day, as we were rattling down the main street, one of the tyres wentoff like a "4. 2. " We drew to the side, and there it was, as flat as apancake. 

There are always a lot of people in the streets of a town who seem tohave nothing particular to do, and very soon quite a decent-sized crowdhad collected. 

"We must do this in record time, " I said to McLaughlan, who knew nothingabout cars, and kept handing me the wrong spanners in his anxiety tohelp. "See, " exclaimed one, "it makes her nothing to dirty her hands insuch a manner. "

"They work like men, these English young girls, is it not so?" saidanother. "_Sapristi, c'est merveilleux. _"

"One would truly say from the distance that they _were_ men, but thisone, when one sees her close, is not too bad!" said a third. 

"Passing remarks about _you_, they are, I should say, " said McLaughlanto me as I fixed the spare wheel in place. 

"You wait, " I panted, "I'll pay them out. "

"See you her strong boots?" they continued. "Believe you that she canunderstand what we say?" asked one. "Never on your life, " was theanswer, and the wheel in place, they watched every movement as I wipedmy hands on a rag and drew on my gloves. "Eight minutes exactly, "whispered McLaughlan triumphantly, as he seated himself beside me on thelorry preparatory to starting. 

The crowd still watched expectantly, and, leaning out a little, I saidsweetly, in my best Parisian accent: "_Mesdames et Messieurs, la séanceest terminée_. " And off we drove! Their expressions defied description;I never saw people look so astounded. McLaughlan was unfeignedlydelighted. "Wot was that you 'anded out to them, Miss?" he asked. "Fairgave it 'em proper anyway, straight from the shoulder, " and he chuckledwith glee. 

I frequently met an old A. S. C. Driver at one of the hospitals where Ihad a long wait while the rations were unloaded. He was fat, rosy, andsmiling, and we became great friends. He was at least sixty; and told methat when War broke out, and his son enlisted, he could not bear to feelhe was out of it, and joined up to do his bit as well. He was a taxiowner-driver in peace times, and had three of them; the one he drovebeing fitted with "real silver vauses!" I heard all about the "missus, "of whom he was very proud, and could imagine how anxiously she watchedthe posts for letters from her only son and her old man. 

Some months later when I was driving an ambulance a message was broughtto me that Stone was in hospital suffering from bronchitis. I went offto visit him. 

"I'm for home this time, " he said sadly, "but won't the old missus bepleased?" I looked at his smiling old face and thought indeed she would. 

He asked particularly if I would drive him to the boat when he was sentto England. "It'll seem odd to be going off on a stretcher, Miss, " hesaid sadly, "just like one of the boys, and not even so much as ascratch to boast of. " I pointed out that there were many men in Englandhalf his age who had done nothing but secure cushy jobs for themselves. 

"Well, Miss, " he said, as I rose to leave, "it'll give me great pleasureto drive you about London for three days when the war's over, and in mybest taxi, too, with the silver vauses!"

(N. B. I'm still looking for him. )

Life in the Convoy Camp was very different from Lamarck, and I missedthe cheery companionship of the others most awfully. At meal times onlyhalf the drivers would be in, and for days at a time you hardly saw yourfriends. 

There were no "10 o'clocks" either. Of course, if you happened to be incamp at that time you probably got a cup of tea in the cook-house, butit's not much of a pastime with no one else to drink it with you. "Pleasant Sunday Evenings" were also out of the question for, with allthe best intentions in the world, no one could have spent an evening inour Mess tent (even to the accompaniment of soft music) and called it"pleasant!" They were still carried on at Lamarck, however, and wheneverpossible we went down in force. 

A BLACK DAY IN THE LIFE OF A CONVOY F. A. N. Y. 

 (_By kind permission of Winifred Mordaunt, From "Barrack Room Ballads of the F. A. N. Y. Corps. "_)

 Gentle reader, when you've seen this, Do not think, please, that I mean this As a common or garden convoy day, For the Fany, as a habit Is as jolly as a rabbit-- Or a jay. 

 But the're days in one's existence, When the ominous persistence Of bad luck goes thundering heavy on your track, Though you shake him off with laughter, He will leap the moment after-- On your back. 

 'Tis the day that when on waking, You will find that you are taking, Twenty minutes when you haven't two to spare, And the bloomin' whistle's starting, When you've hardly thought of parting-- Your front hair!

 You acquire the cheerful knowledge, Ere you rush to swallow porridge, That "fatigue" has just been added to your bliss, "If the weather's no objection, There will be a car inspection-- Troop--dismiss!"

 With profane ejaculation, You will see "evacuation" Has been altered to an earlier hour than nine, So your 'bus you start on winding, Till you hear the muscles grinding-- In your spine. 

 Let's pass over nasty places, Where you jolt your stretcher cases And do everything that's wrong upon the quay, Then it's time to clean the boiler, And the sweat drops from the toiler, Oh--dear me!

 When you've finished rubbing eye-wash, On your engine, comes a "Kibosch. " As the Section-leader never looks at it, But a grease-cap gently twisting, She remarks that it's consisting, -- "Half of grit. "

 Then as seated on a trestle, With the toughest beef you wrestle, That in texture would out-rival stone or rock, You are told you must proceed, To Boulogne, with care and speed At two o'clock. 

 As you're whisking through Marquise (While the patients sit at ease) Comes the awful sinking sizzle of a tyre, It is usual in such cases, That your jack at all such places, Won't go higher. 

 A wet, cold rain starts soaking, And the old car keeps on choking, Your hands and face are frozen raw and red, Three sparking-plugs are missing, There's another tyre a-hissing, Well--! 'nuff said!

 You reach camp as night's descending, To the bath with haste you're wending, A hot tub's the only thing to save a cough, Cries the F. A. N. Y. Who's still in it, "Ah! poor soul, why just this minute, Water's off!"

_N. B. _--It was a popular pastime of the powers that be to turn the wateroff at intervals, without any warning, rhyme or reason--one of thetragedies of the War. 

CHAPTER XII

THE PASSING OF THE LITTLE LORRY, "OLD BILL" AND "'ERB" AT AUDRICQ

A mild sensation was caused one day by a collision on the Boulogne roadwhen a French car skidded into one of ours (luckily empty at the time)and pushed it over into the gutter. 

"Heasy" and Lowson were both requested to appear at the subsequent Courtof Enquiry, and Sergeant Lawrence, R. A. M. C. (who had been on theambulance at the time) was bursting with importance and joy at theanticipation of the proceedings. He was one of the chief witnesses, andapart from anything else it meant an extra day's pay for him, though whyit should I could never quite fathom. 

As they drove off, with Boss as chaperone, a perfect salvo of old shoeswas thrown after them!

They returned with colours flying, for had not Lowson saved thesituation by producing a tape measure three minutes after the accident, measuring the space the Frenchman swore was wide enough for his car topass, and proving thereby it was a physical impossibility?

"How, " asked the Colonel, who was conducting the Enquiry, "can youdeclare with so much certainty the space was 3 feet 8 inches?"

"I measured it, " replied Lowson promptly. 

"May I ask with what?" he rasped. 

"A tape-measure I had in my pocket, " replied she, smiling affably thewhile (sensation). 

The Court of Enquiry went down like a pack of cards before that tapemeasure. Such a thing had never been heard of before; and from thenonwards the reputation of the "lady drivers" being prepared for all"immersions" was established finally and irrevocably. 

It was a marvel how fit we all kept throughout those cold months. It wasno common thing to wake up in the mornings and find icicles on the topblanket of the "flea bag" where one's breath had frozen, and of courseone's sponge was a solid block of ice. It was duly placed in a tin basinon the top of the stove and melted by degrees. Luckily we had thoseround oil stoves; and with flaps securely fastened at night we achievedwhat was known as a "perfectly glorious fug. "

Engineers began to make frequent trips to camp to choose a suitable sitefor the huts we were to have to replace our tents. 

My jobs on the little lorry were many and varied; getting the weeklybeer for the Sergeants' Mess being one of the least important. I drewrations for several hospitals as well as bringing up the petrol andtyres for the Convoy, rationing the Officers' Mess, etc. ; and regularlyat one o'clock just as we were sitting at Mess, Sergeant Brown wouldappear (though we never saw more of him than his legs) at the aperturethat served as our door, and would call out diffidently in his highsqueaky voice: "Isolation, when you're ready, Miss, " and as regularlythe whole Mess would go off into fits! This formula when translatedmeant that he was ready for me to take the rations to the Isolationhospital up the canal. Hastily grabbing some cheese I would crank up thelittle lorry and depart. 

The little lorry did really score when an early evacuation took place, at any hour from 4 a. M. Onwards, when the men had to be taken from thehospitals to the ships bound for England. How lovely to lie in bed andhear other people cranking up their cars!

Barges came regularly down the canals with cases too seriously woundedto stand the jolting in ambulance trains. One day we were all havingtea, and some friends had dropped in, when a voice was heard calling"Barges, Barges. " Without more ado the whole Mess rose, a form wasoverturned, and off they scampered as fast as they could to get theircars and go off immediately. The men left sitting there gazed blankly ateach other and finally turned to me for an explanation--(being a lorry, I was not required). "Barges, " I said; "they all have to hurry off asquickly as possible to unload the cases. " They thought it rather ahumorous way of speeding the parting guest, but I assured them workalways came before (or generally during) tea in our Convoy! Major S. P. Never forgot that episode, and the next time he came, heralded hisarrival by calling out at the top of his voice, "Barges, Barges!" withthe result that half the Convoy turned out _en masse_. He assured hisfriends it was the one method of getting a royal welcome. 

I shall never forget with what fear and trepidation I drove my first lotof wounded. I was on evening duty when the message came up about seventhat there were eight bad cases, too bad to stay on the barge till nextmorning, which were to be removed to hospital immediately. Renny and Iset off, each driving a Napier ambulance. We backed into position on thesloping shingly ground near the side of the canal, and waited for thebarge to come in. 

Presently we espied it slipping silently along under the bridge. Thecases were placed on lifts and slung gently up from the inside of thebarge, which was beautifully fitted up like a hospital ward. 

It is not an easy matter when you are on a slope to start off smoothlywithout jerking the patients within; and I held my breath as Ideclutched and took off the brake, accelerating gently the meanwhile. Thank heaven! We were moving slowly forward and there had been no jerk. They were all bad cases and an occasional groan would escape their lipsin spite of themselves. I dreaded a certain dip in the road--a sort ofopen drain known in France as a _canivet_--but fortunately I hadpractised crossing it when out one day trying a Napier, and wemanoeuvred it pretty fairly. My relief on getting to hospital wastremendous. My back was aching, so was my knee (from constantclutch-slipping over the bumps and cobbles), and my eyes felt as if theywere popping out of my head. In fact I had a pretty complete "stretcherface!" I had often ragged the others about their "stretcher faces, "which was a special sort of strained expression I had noticed as Iskimmed past them in the little lorry, but now I knew just what it feltlike. 

The new huts were going apace, and were finished about the end of April, just as the weather was getting warmer. We were each to have one toourselves, and they led off on each side of a long corridor running downthe centre. These huts were built almost in a horse-shoe shape and--joyof joys! there were to be two bathrooms at the end! We also had atelephone fixed up--a great boon. The furniture in the huts consisted ofa bed and two shelves, and that was all. There was an immediate slump incar cleaning. The rush on carpentering was tremendous. It was by nomeans safe for a workman to leave his tools and bag anywhere in thevicinity; his saw the next morning was a thing to weep over if he did. (It's jolly hard to saw properly, anyway, and it really looks such aneasy pastime. )

The wooden cases that the petrol was sent over in from England, largeenough to hold two tins, were in great demand. These we made intosettees and stools, etc. , and when stained and polished they lookedquite imposing. The contractor kindly offered to paint the interiors ofthe huts for us as a present, but we were a little startled to see thebrilliant green that appeared. Someone unkindly suggested that he couldget rid of it in no other way. 

When at last they were finished we received orders to take up our newquarters, but, funnily enough, we had become so attached to our tents bythat time that we were very loath to do so. A fatigue party howeverarrived one day to take the tents down, so there was nothing for it. Many of the workmen were most obliging and did a lot of odd jobs for us. I rescued one of the Red Cross beds instead of the camp one I had hadheretofore--the advantage was that it had springs--but there was onlythe mattress part, and so it had to be supported on two petrol cases forlegs! The disadvantage of this was that as often as not one end slippedoff in the night and you were propelled on to the floor, or else twoopposite corners held and the other two see-sawed in mid-air. Both greataids to nightmares. 

"Tuppence" did not take at all kindly to the new order of things; hemissed chasing the mice that used to live under the tent boards andother minor attractions of the sort. 

The draughtiness and civilization of the new huts compared with the"fug" of the tents all combined to give us chills! I had a specially badone, and managed with great skill to wangle a fortnight's sick leave inParis. 

The journey had not increased much in speed since my last visit, buteverything in Paris itself had assumed a much more normal aspect. Thebridge over the Oise had long since been repaired, and hardly a shopremained closed. I went to see my old friend M. Jollivet at Neuilly, andhad the same little English mare to ride in the Bois, and also visitedmany of the friends I had made during my first leave there. 

I got some wonderful French grey Ripolin sort of stuff from a littleshop in the "Boul' Mich" with which to tone down the violent green in myhut, that had almost driven me mad while I lay ill in bed. 

The Convoy was gradually being enlarged, and a great many new driverscame out from England just after I got back. McLaughlan gave me a greatwelcome when I went for the washing that afternoon. "It's good to seeyou back, Miss, " he said, "the driver they put on the lorry was veryslow and cautious--you know the 'en we always try to catch? Would youbelieve it we slowed down to walking pace so as to _miss_ 'er!" and hesniffed disgustedly. 

The news of the battle of Jutland fell like a bombshell in the campowing to the pessimistic reports first given of it in the papers. Awitty Frenchman once remarked that in all our campaigns we had only wonone battle, but that was the last, and we felt that however black thingsappeared at the moment we would come out on top in the end. The news ofKitchener's death five days later plunged the whole of the B. E. F. Intomourning, and the French showed their sympathy in many touching ways. 

One day to my sorrow I heard that the little Mors lorry was to be doneaway with, owing to the shortage of petrol that began to be felt aboutthis time, and that horses and G. S. Wagons were to draw rations, etc. , instead. It had just been newly painted and was the joy of myheart--however mine was not to reason why, and in due course Red Crossdrivers appeared with two more ambulances from the Boulogne _dépôt_, andthey made the journey back in the little Mors. 

It was then that "Susan" came into being. 

The two fresh ambulances were both Napiers, and I hastily consultedBrown (the second mechanic who had come to assist Kirkby as the workincreased) which he thought was the best one. (It was generally felt Ishould have first choice to console me for the loss of the little Mors. )

I chose the speediest, naturally. She was a four cylinder Napier, givenby a Mrs. Herbert Davies to the Red Cross at the beginning of the war(_vide_ small brass plate affixed), and converted from her private carinto an ambulance. She had been in the famous old Dunkirk Convoy in1914, and was battle-scarred, as her canvas testified, where the bulletsand shrapnel had pierced it. She had a fat comfortable look about her, and after I had had her for some time I felt "Susan" was the only namefor her; and Susan she remained from that day onwards. She always cameup to the scratch, that car, and saved my life more than once. 

We snatched what minutes we could from work to do our "cues, " as wecalled our small huts. It was a great pastime to voyage from hut to hutand see what particular line the "furnishing" was taking. Mine wasclosed to all intruders on the score that I had the "painters in. " Itwas to be _art nouveau_. I found it no easy matter to get the stuff onevenly, especially as I had rather advanced ideas as to muraldecoration! With great difficulty I stencilled long lean-lookingpanthers stalking round the top as a sort of fresco. I cut one patternout in cardboard and fixing it with drawing pins painted the Ripolinover it, with the result that I had a row of green panthers prowlinground against a background of French grey! I found them very restful, but of course opinions differ on these subjects. Curtains and cushionswere of bright Reckitt's blue material, bought in the market, relievedby scrolls of dull pink wool embroidered (almost a stitch at a time) inbetween jobs. The dark stained "genuine antiques" or _veritablesimitations_ (as I once saw them described in a French shop) lookedrather well against this background; and a tremendous house-warming tookplace to celebrate the occasion. 

No. 30 Field hospital arrived one day straight from Sicily, where it hadapparently been sitting ever since the war, awaiting casualties. 

As there seemed no prospect of any being sent, they were ordered toFrance, and took up their quarters on a sandy waste near the Frenchcoastal forts. The orderlies had picked up quite a lot of Italian duringtheir sojourn and were never tired of describing the wonderful sightsthey had seen. 

While waiting for patients there one day, a corporal informed me that onthe return journey they had "passed the volcano Etna, in rupture!"

A great many troops came to a rest camp near us, and I always feel that"Tuppence's" disappearance was due to them. He _would_ be friendly withcomplete strangers, and several times had come in minus his collar(stolen by French urchins, I supposed). I had just bought his fourth, and rather lost heart when he turned up the same evening without it oncemore. Work was pouring in just then, and I would sometimes be out allday. When last I saw him he was playing happily with Nellie, anotherterrier belonging to a man at the Casino, and that night I missed himfrom my hut. I advertised in the local rag (he was well known to all theFrench people as he was about the only pure bred dog they'd ever seen), but to no avail. I also made visits to the _Abattoir_, the Frenchslaughter house where strays were taken, but he was not there, and Icould only hope he had been taken by some Tommies, in which case I knewhe would be well looked after. I missed him terribly. 

Work came in spasms, in accordance with the fighting of course, and whenthere was no special push on we had tremendous car inspections. Bosswalked round trying to spot empty grease caps and otherwise makingherself thoroughly objectionable in the way of gear boxes anduniversals. On these occasions "eye-wash" was extensively applied to thebrass, the idea being to keep her attention fixed well to the front bythe glare. 

One day, when all manner of fatigues and other means of torture had beenexhausted, Dicky and Freeth discovered they had a simultaneous birthday. Prospects of wounded arriving seemed nil, and permission was given for afancy-dress tea party to celebrate the double event. It must be hereunderstood that whether work came in or not we all had to remain on dutyin camp till five every day, in case of the sudden arrival of ambulancetrains, etc. After that hour, two of us were detailed to be on eveningduty till nine, while all night duty was similarly taken in turns. Usually, after hanging about all day till five, a train or barges wouldbe announced, and we were lucky if we got into bed this side of 12. Hardly what you might call a "six-hour day, " and yet nobody went onstrike. 

The one in question was fine and cloudless, and birthday wishes in theshape of a Taube raid were expressed by the Boche, who apparently keepshimself informed on all topics. 

The fancy dresses (considering what little scope we had and that no oneeven left camp to buy extras in the town) were many and varied. "Squig"and de Wend were excellent as bookies, in perfectly good toppers madeout of stiff white paper with deep black ribbon bands and "THE OLDFIRM" painted in large type on cards. Jockeys, squaws, yokels, etc. , allappeared mysteriously from nothing. I was principally draped in myReckitts blue upholsterings and a brilliant Scherezade kimono, bought ina moment of extravagance in Paris. 

The proceedings after tea, when the cooks excelled themselves making anenormous birthday cake, consisted of progressive games of sorts. Youknow the kind of thing, trying to pick up ten needles with a pin (or isit two?) and doing a Pelman memory stunt after seeing fifty objects on atray, and other intellectual pursuits of that description. Another stuntwas putting a name to different liquids which you smelt blindfold. Thiswas the only class in which I got placed. I was the only one apparentlywho knew the difference between whisky and brandy! Funnily enough, wouldyou believe it, it was the petrol that floored me. Considering wewallowed in it from morning till night it was rather strange. I wasnearly spun altogether when it came to the game of Bridge in thetelephone room. "I've never played it in my life, " I said desperately. "Never mind, " said someone jokingly, "just take a hand. " I took the tipseriously and did so, looking at my cards as gravely as a judge--finallyI selected one and threw it down. To my relief no one screamed ordenounced me and I breathed again. (It requires some skill to play agame of Bridge when you know absolutely nothing about it. )

"Pity you lost that last trick, " said my partner to me as we left theroom; "it was absolutely in your hand. "

"Was it?" I asked innocently. 

We had a rush of work after this, and wounded again began to pour infrom the Third Battle of Ypres. 

Early evacuations came regularly with the tides. They would begin at 4a. M. And get half an hour later each day. When we took "sitters" (i. E. Sitting patients with "Blighty" wounds), one generally came in front andsat beside the driver, and on the way to the Hospital Ships we sometimeslearnt a lot about them. I had a boy of sixteen one day, a bright cheerysoul. "How did you get in?" (meaning into the army), I asked. "Oh, well, Miss, it was like this, I was afraid it would be over before I was oldenough, so I said I was eighteen. The recruiting bloke winked and so didI, and I was through. " Another, when asked about his wound, said, "It'sgoing on fine now, Sister (they always called us Sister), but I lost meconscience for two days up the line with it. "

We had a bunch of Canadians to take one day. "D'you come from Sussex?"asked one, of me. "No, " I replied, "from Cumberland. " "That's funny, " hesaid, "the V. A. D. Who looked after me came from Sussex, and she had thesame accent as you, I guess!" Another man had not been home for fiveyears, but had joined up in Canada and come straight over. A Scotsmanhad not been home for twenty, and he intended to see his "folks" andcome out again as soon as he was passed fit by the doctors. 

One fine morning at 5 a. M. We were awakened by a fearful din, much worsethan the usual thing. The huts trembled and our beds shook beneath us, not to mention the very nails falling out of the walls! We wondered atfirst if it was a fleet of Zepps. Dropping super-bombs, but decided itwas too light for them to appear at that hour. 

There it was again, as if the very earth was being cleft in two, and ourwindows rattled in their sockets. It is not a pleasant sensation to havesteady old Mother Earth rocking like an "ashpan" leaf beneath your feet. 

We dressed hurriedly, knowing that the cars might be called on to go outat any moment. 

What the disaster was we could not fathom, but that it was some distanceaway we had no doubt. 

At 7 a. M. The telephone rang furiously, and we all waited breathless forthe news. 

Ten cars were ordered immediately to Audricq, where a large ammunitiondump had been set on fire by a Boche airman. 

Heavy explosions continued at intervals all the morning as one shedafter another became affected. 

When our cars got there the whole dump was one seething mass of smokeand flames, and shells of every description were hurtling through theair at short intervals. Several of these narrowly missed the cars. Itwas a new experience to be under fire from our own shells. The roadswere littered with live ones, and with great difficulty the wheels ofthe cars were steered clear of them!

Many shells were subsequently found at a distance of five miles, and oneburied itself in a peaceful garden ten miles off!

A thousand 9. 2's had gone off simultaneously and made a crater bigenough to bury a village in. It was this explosion that had shaken ourhuts miles away. The neighbouring village fell flat like a pack of cardsat the concussion, the inhabitants having luckily taken to the openfields at the first intimation that the dump was on fire. 

The total casualties were only five in number, which was almostincredible in view of the many thousands of men employed. It was due tothe presence of mind of the Camp Commandant that there were not more;for, once he realized the hopeless task of getting the fire undercontrol, he gave orders to the men to clear as fast as they could. Theyneeded no second bidding and made for the nearest _Estaminets_ withspeed! The F. A. N. Y. S found that instead of carrying wounded, their taskwas to search the countryside (with Sergeants on the box) and bring themen to a camp near ours. "Dead?" asked someone, eyeing the fourmotionless figures inside one of the ambulances. "Yes, " replied theF. A. N. Y. Cheerfully--"drunk!"

The Boche had flown over at 3 a. M. But so low down the Archies werepowerless to get him. As one of the men said to me, "If we'd had rifles, Miss, we could have potted him easy. "

He flew from shed to shed dropping incendiary bombs on the roofs as hepassed, and up they went like fireworks. The only satisfaction we hadwas to hear that he had been brought down on his way back over ourlines, so the Boche never heard of the disaster he had caused. 

Some splendid work was done after the place had caught fire. Oneofficer, in spite of the great risk he ran from bursting shells, got theammunition train off safely to the 4th army. Thanks to him, the men upthe line were able to carry on as if nothing had happened, till furthersupplies could be sent from other dumps. It was estimated that fourdays' worth of shells from all the factories in England had beendestroyed. 

An M. T. Officer got all the cars and lorries out of the sheds andinstructed the drivers to take them as far from the danger zone aspossible, while the Captain in charge of the "Archie" Battery stuck tohis guns; and he and his men remained in the middle of that infernohidden in holes in their dug-out, from which it was impossible to rescuethem for two days. 

Five days after the explosion Gutsie and I were detailed to go toAudricq for some measles cases, and we reported first to the CampCommandant, who was sitting in the remains of his office, a shellsticking up in the floor and half his roof blown away. 

He gave us permission to see the famous crater, and instructed one ofthe subalterns to show us round. There were still fires burning andshells popping in some parts and the scenes of wreckage were almostindescribable. 

The young officer was not particularly keen to take us at all and saidwarningly, "You come at your own risk--there are nothing but live shellslying about, liable to go off at any moment. Be careful, " he said to me, "you're just stepping on one now. " I hopped off with speed, but all thesame we were not a whit discouraged, which seemed to disappoint him. 

As Gutsie and I stumbled and rolled over 4. 2's and hand grenades Iquoted to her from the "Fuse-top collectors"--"You can generally 'ear'em fizzin' a bit if they're going to go 'orf, 'Erb!" by way ofencouragement. Trucks had been lifted bodily by the concussion, andcould be seen in adjacent fields; many of the sheds had been half blownaway, leaving rows of live shells lying snugly in neat piles, but asthere was no knowing when they might explode it was decided to scrap thewhole dump when the fires had subsided. 

We walked up a small hill literally covered with shells and empty handgrenades of the round cricket ball type, two of which were given to usto make into match boxes. Every description of shell was there as far asthe eye could see, and some were empty and others were not. We reachedthe summit, walking gingerly over 9. 2's (which formed convenient steps)to find ourselves at the edge of the enormous crater already half filledwith water. It was incredible to believe a place of that size had beenformed in the short space of one second, and yet on the other hand, when I remembered how the earth had trembled, the wonder was it was noteven larger. 

It took weeks for that dump to be cleared up. Little by little the liveshells were collected and taken out to sea in barges, and dropped inmid-ocean. 

Not long after that the "Zulu, " a British destroyer, came into port halfblown away by a mine. Luckily the engine was intact and still working, but the men, who had had marvellous escapes, lost all their kit andrations. We were not able to supply the former, unfortunately, but weremedied the latter with speed, and also took down cigarettes, whichthey welcomed more than anything. 

We were shown all over the remains, and hearing that the "Nubia" hadjust had her engine room blown away, we suggested that the two endsshould be joined together and called the "Nuzu, " but whether theAdmiralty thought anything of the idea I have yet to learn!

Before the Captain left he had napkin rings made for each of us out ofthe copper piping from the ship, in token of his appreciation of thehelp we had given. 

The Colonials were even more surprised to see girls driving in Francethan our own men had been. 

One man, a dear old Australian, was being invalided out altogether andgoing home to his wife. He told me how during the time he had been awayshe had become totally blind owing to some special German stuff, thathad been formerly injected to keep her sight, being now unprocurable. "Guess she's done her bit, " he ended; "and I'm off home to take care ofher. She'll be interested to hear how the lassies work over here, " andwe parted with a handshake. 

Important conferences were always taking place at the Hôtel Maritime, and one day as I was down on the quay the French Premier and severalother notabilities arrived. "There's Mr. Asquith, " said an R. T. O. To me. "That!" said I, in an unintentionally loud voice, eyeing his long hair, "I thought he was a 'cellist belonging to a Lena Ashwell Concert party!"He looked round, and I faded into space. 

Taking some patients to hospital that afternoon we passed someAustralians marching along. "Fine chaps, " said the one sitting on thebox to me, "they're a good emetic of their country, aren't they?" (N. B. I fancy he meant to say emblem. )

Our concert party still flourished, though the conditions for practisingwere more difficult than ever. Our Mess tent had been moved again on toa plot of grass behind the cook-house to leave more space for the carsto be parked, and though we had a piano there it was somehow notparticularly inspiring, nor had we the time to practise. The Guards'Brigade were down resting at Beau Marais, and we were asked to give thema show. We now called ourselves the "FANTASTIKS, " and wore a blackpierrette kit with yellow bobbles. The rehearsals were mostly conductedin the back of the ambulance on the way there, and the rest of the timewas spent feverishly muttering one's lines to oneself and imploringother people not to muddle one. The show was held in a draughty tent, and when it was over the Padre made a short prayer and they all sang ahymn. (Life is one continual paradox out in France. ) I shall neverforget the way those Guardsmen sang either. It was perfectly splendid. There they stood, rows of men, the best physique England could produce, and how they sang!

Betty drove us back to camp in the "Crystal Palace, " so-called from itsmany windows--a six cylinder Delauney-Belville car used to take the armysisters to and from their billets. We narrowly missed nose-diving into achalk pit on the way, the so-called road being nothing but a ruttytrack. 

The Fontinettes ambulance train was a special one that was usuallyreported to arrive at 8 p. M. , but never put in an appearance till 10, or, on some occasions, one o'clock. The battle of the Somme was now inprogress; and, besides barges and day trains, three of these arrivedeach week. The whole Convoy turned out for this; and one by one thetwenty-five odd cars would set off, keeping an equal distance apart, forming an imposing looking column down from the camp, across the bridgeand through the town to the railway siding. The odd makes had beenweeded out and the whole lot were now Napiers. The French inhabitantswould turn out _en masse_ to see us pass, and were rather proud of us onthe whole, I think. Arrived at the big railway siding, we all formed upinto a straight line to await the train. After many false alarms, andanswering groans from the waiting F. A. N. Y. S, it would come slowlycreaking along and draw up. The ambulances were then reversed right upto the doors, and the stretcher bearers soon filled them up with fourlying cases. At the exit stood Boss and the E. M. O. , directing eachambulance which hospital the cases were to go to. Those journeys backwere perfect nightmares. Try as one would, it was impossible not to bumpa certain amount over those appalling roads full of holes and cobbles. It was pathetic when a voice from the interior could be heard asking, "Is it much farther, Sister?" and knowing how far it was, my heart achedfor them. After all they had been through, one felt they should bespared every extra bit of pain that was possible. When I in my turn wasin an ambulance, I knew just what it felt like. Sometimes the cases wereso bad we feared they would not even last the journey, and there we wereall alone, and not able to hurry to hospital owing to the other three onboard. 

The journey which in the ordinary way, when empty, took fifteen minutes, under these circumstances lasted anything from three-quarters of an hourto an hour. "Susan" luckily was an extremely steady 'bus, and in 3rd. Gear on a smooth road there was practically no movement at all. Iremember once on getting to the Casino I called out, "I hope you weren'tbumped too much in there?" and was very cheered when a voice replied, "It was splendid, Sister, you should have seen us up the line, joltingall over the place. " "Sister, " another one called, "will you drive uswhen we leave for Blighty?" I said it was a matter of chance, butwhoever did so would be just as careful. "No, " said the voice decidedly, "there couldn't be two like you. " (I think he must have been in an IrishRegiment. )

The relief after the strain of this journey was tremendous; and the joyof dashing back through the evening air made one feel as if weights hadbeen taken off and one were flying. It was rather a temptation to testthe speed of one's 'bus against another on these occasions; and "Susan"seemed positively to take a human interest in the impromptu race, allthe more so as it was forbidden. The return journey was by a differentroute from that taken by the laden ambulances so that there was nodanger of a collision. 

We usually had about three journeys with wounded; twelve stretcher casesin all, so that, say the train came in at nine and giving an hour toeach journey there and back, it meant (not counting loading andunloading) roughly 1 o'clock a. M. Or later before we had finished. Thenthere were usually the sitting cases to be taken off and the stretcherbearers to be driven back to their camp. Half of one head light only wasallowed to be shown; and the impression I always had when I came in wasthat my eyes had popped right out of my head and were on bits ofelastic. A most extraordinary sensation, due to the terrible strain oftrying to see in the darkness just a little further than one reallycould. It was the irony of fate to learn, when we did come in, that anearly evacuation had been telephoned through for 5 a. M. I often spentthe whole night dreaming I was driving wounded and had given them themost awful bump. The horror of it woke me up, only to find that my bedhad slipped off one of the petrol boxes and was see-sawing in mid-air!

THE RED CROSS CARS

 "They are bringing them back who went forth so bravely. Grey, ghostlike cars down the long white road Come gliding, each with its cross of scarlet On canvas hood, and its heavy load Of human sheaves from the crimson harvest That greed and falsehood and hatred sowed. 

 "Maimed and blinded and torn and shattered, Yet with hardly a groan or a cry From lips as white as the linen bandage; Though a stifled prayer 'God let me die, ' Is wrung, maybe, from a soul in torment As the car with the blood-red cross goes by. 

 "Oh, Red Cross car! What a world of anguish On noiseless wheels you bear night and day. Each one that comes from the field of slaughter Is a moving Calvary, painted grey. And over the water, at home in England 'Let's play at soldiers, ' the children say. "

 Anon. 

CHAPTER XIII

CONVOY LIFE

The Prince of Wales was with the Grenadiers at Beau Marais when theycame in to rest for a time. One day, while having tea at the Sauvage, Mademoiselle Léonie, sister of the proprietor, came up to me in aperfect flutter of excitement to say that that very evening the Princehad ordered the large room to be prepared for a dinner he was giving tohis brother officers. 

I was rather a favourite of hers, and she assured me if I wished towatch him arriving it would give her great pleasure to hide me in herpaying-desk place where I could see everything clearly. She was quitehurt when I refused the invitation. 

He was tremendously popular with the French people; and the next time Isaw her she rushed up to me and said: "How your Prince is beautiful, Mees; what spirit, what fire! Believe me, they broke every glass theyused at that dinner, and then the Prince demanded of me the bill andpaid for everything. " (Some lad!) "He also wrote his name in myautograph book, " she added proudly. "Oh he is _chic_, that one there, Itell you!"

One warm summer day Gutsie and I were sitting on a grassy knoll, justbeyond our camp overlooking the sea (well within earshot of thesummoning whistle), watching a specially large merchant ship come in. Except for the distant booming of the guns (that had now become such abackground to existence we never noticed it till it stopped), anatmosphere of peace and drowsiness reigned over everything. The ship wasjust nearing the jetty preparatory to entering the harbour when a dullreverberating roar broke the summer stillness, the banks we were onfairly shook, and there before our eyes, out of the sea, rose a denseblack cloud of smoke 50 feet high that totally obscured the ship fromsight for a moment. When the black fumes sank down, there, where a wholevessel had been a moment before, was only half a ship! We rubbed oureyes incredulously. It had all happened so suddenly it might have takenplace on a Cinema. She had, of course, struck a German mine, and quickas lightning two long, lithe, grey bodies (French destroyers) shot outfrom the port and took off what survivors were left. Contrary toexpectation she did not sink, but settled down, and remained afloat tillshe was towed in later in the day. 

A "Y. M. C. A. " article on "Women's work in France, " that appeared in aMagazine at home, was sent out to one of the girls. The paragraphrelating to us ran:--

"Then there are the 'F. A. N. N. I. E. S. , ' the dear mud-besplashingF. A. N. Y. S. (to judge from the language of the sometime bespattered, theadjective was not always 'dear'), with them cheeriness is almost a cult;at 6 a. M. In the morning you may always be sure of a smile, even whentheir sleep for the week has only averaged five hours per night. "

There were not many parties at Filbert during that summer. Off-time wassuch an uncertain quantity. We managed to put in several though, likewise some gallops on the glorious sands stretching for miles alongthe coast. (It was hardly safe to call at the Convoy on your favouritecharger. When you came out from tea it was more than probable you foundhim in a most unaccountable lather!) Bathing during the daytime was alsoa rare event, so we went down in an ambulance after dark, macks coveringour bathing dresses, and scampered over the sands in the moonlight tothe warm waves shining and glistening with phosphorus. 

Zeppelin raids seemed to go out of fashion, but Gothas replaced themwith pretty considerable success. As we had a French Archie battery nearus it was no uncommon thing, when a raid was in progress, for oursouvenirs and plates, etc. , to rattle off the walls and bomb us (more orless gently) awake!

There was a stretch of asphalt just at the bottom of our camp that hadbeen begun by an enterprising burgher as a tennis club before the war, though others _did_ say it was really intended as a secret German gunemplacement. It did not matter much to us for which purpose it had beenmade, for, as it was near, we could play tennis and still be withincall. There was just room for two courts, and many a good game weenjoyed there, especially after an early evacuation, in the long emptypause till "brekker" at eight o'clock. 

"Wuzzy, " or to give him his proper name, "Gerald, " came into existenceabout this time. He arrived from Peuplinghe a fat fluffy puppy coveredwith silky grey curls. He was of nondescript breed, with a distinctleaning towards an old English sheep dog. He had enormous fawn-colouredsilky paws, and was so soft and floppy he seemed as if he had hardly abone in his body. We used to pick him up and drop him gently in thegrass to watch him go out flat like a tortoise. He belonged to Lean, andgrew up a rather irresponsible creature with long legs and a lovabledisposition. He adored coming down to the ambulance trains or sittingimportantly on a car, jeering and barking at his low French friends inthe road, on the "I'm the king of the castle" principle. Another of hisfavourite tricks was to rush after a car (usually selecting Lean's), andkeep with it the whole time, never swerving to another, which was ratherclever considering they were so much alike. On the way back to Camp hehad a special game he played on the French children playing in the_Petit Courgain_. He would rush up as if he were going to fly at them. They would scream and fall over in terror while he positively laughed atthem over his shoulder as he cantered off to try it on somewhere else. The camp was divided in its opinion of Wuzzy, or rather I should sayquartered--viz. --one quarter saw his points and the other three-quartersdecidedly did not!

A priceless article appeared in one of the leading dailies entitled, "Women Motor Drivers. --Is it a suitable occupation?" and was cut out byanxious parents and forwarded with speed to the Convoy. 

The headlines ran: "The lure of the Wheel. " "Is it necessary?" "Theafter effects. " We lapped it up with joy. Phrases such as "Women'soutlook on life will be distorted by the adoption of such a profession, her finer instincts crushed, " pleased us specially. It continued "Allthe delicate things that mean, must mean, life to the feminine mind, will lose their significance"--(cries of "What about the frillies youbought in Paris, Pat?") "The uncongenial atmosphere"--I continued, reading further--"of the garage, yard, and workshops, the aliencompanionship of mechanics and chauffeurs will isolate her mentalstanding" (shrieks of joy), "the ceaseless days and dull monotony oflabour will not only rob her of much feminine charm but will instil intoher mind bitterness that will eat from her heart all capacity for joy, steal away her youth, and deprive her of the colour and sunlight oflife" (loud sobs from the listening F. A. N. Y. S, who still, strangelyenough, seemed to be suffering from no loss of _joie de vivre_!) Whenthe noise had subsided I continued: "There is of course the possibilitythat she will become conscious of her condition and change of mind, andrealize her level in time to counteract the ultimate effects(!). Therealization however may come too late. The aptitude for happiness willhave gone by for the transitory joys of driving, the questionableintricacies of the magneto--" but further details were suspended owingto small bales of cotton waste hurtling through the air, and in selfdefence I had to leave the "intricacies of the magneto" and pursue theoffenders round the camp! The only reply Boss could get as a reason forthe tumult was that the F. A. N. Y. S were endeavouring to "realize thelevel of their minds. " "Humph, " was Boss's comment, "First I've heardthat some of them even had any, " and retired into her hut. 

We often had to take wounded German prisoners to No. 14 hospital, about30 kilometres away. On these occasions we always had three armed guardsto prevent them from escaping. The prisoners looked like convicts withtheir shorn heads and shoddy grey uniforms, and I always found it verydifficult to imagine these men capable of fighting at all. They seemedpretty content with their lot and often tried to smile ingratiatingly atthe drivers. One day going along the sea road one of them poked me inthe back through the canvas against which we leant when driving andsaid, "Ni--eece Englessh Mees!" I was furious and used the most forcibleGerman I could think of at a moment's notice. "Cheek!" I said to theguard sitting beside me on the box, "I'd run them over the cliff fortuppence. "

He got the wind up entirely: "Oh, Miss, " he said, in an anxious voice, "for Gawd's sake don't. Remember we're on board as well. "

The Rifle brigade came in to rest after the Guards had gone, and beforethey left again for the line, gave a big race meeting on the sands. Luckily for us there was no push on just then, and work was inconsequence very slack. A ladies' race was included in the Programme forour benefit. It was one of the last events, and until it came off weamused ourselves riding available mules, much to the delight of theTommies, who cheered and yelled and did their best to get them to "takeoff!" They were hard and bony and had mouths like old sea boots, but itwas better than toiling in the deep sand. 

There were about fourteen entries for our race, several of them fromLamarck, and we all drew for polo ponies lent from the Brigade. Theirowners were full of instructions as to the best method to get themalong. We cantered up to the starting post, and there was some delaywhile Renny got her stirrups right. This was unfortunate, as our poniesgot a bit "cold. " At last the flag fell, and we were off! It wasripping; and the excitement of that race beat anything I've ever known. As we thundered over the sands I began to experience the joys of seeingthe horses in front "coming back" to me, as our old jockey stable-boyused to describe. Heasy came in first, MacDougal second, and Winnie andI tied third. It was a great race entirely, and all too short by a longway. 

One day I was detailed to drive the Matron and our section leader to afête of sorts for Belgian refugee orphans. On the way back, crossing theswing bridge, we met Betty driving the sisters to their billets. Ithought Matron wanted to speak to them and luckily, as it turned out, Islowed down. She changed her mind, however, and I was just picking upagain as we came abreast, when from behind Betty's car sprang a womanright in front of mine (after her hat it appeared later, which the windhad just blown across the road). The apparition was so utterlyunforeseen and unexpected that she was bowled over like a rabbit in twoshakes. I jammed on the brakes and we sprang out, and saw she was underthe car in between the wheel and the chassis. Luckily she was a smallthin woman, and as Gaspard has so eloquently expressed it on anotheroccasion, _platte comme une punaise_ (flat as a drawing-pin). I washorrified, the whole thing had happened so suddenly. A crowd of Frenchand Belgian soldiers collected, and I rapidly directed them to lift thefront of the car up by the springs, as it seemed the only way of gettingher out without further injury. I turned away, not daring to look, andas I did so my eye caught sight of some hair near one of the backwheels! That finished me up! I did not stop to reason that of course theback wheels had not touched her, and thought, "My God, I've scalpedher!" and I leant over the railings feeling exceedingly sick. A friendlyM. P. Who had seen the whole thing, patted me on the arm and said, "Now, then, Miss, don't you take on, that's only her false 'air, " as indeedit proved to be! The woman was yelling and groaning, "_Mon Dieu, je suistuée_, " but according to the "red hat" she was as "right as rain, nothing but 'ysteria. " I blessed that M. P. And hoped we would meetagain. We helped her on to the front seat, where Thompson supported her, while I drove to hospital to see if any damage had been done. Singularlyenough, she was only suffering from bruises and a torn skirt, and ofcourse the loss of her "false 'air" (which I had refused to touch, ithad given me such a turn). I can only hope her husband, who was with herat the time, picked it up. He followed to hospital and gave her a mostfrightful scolding, adding that of course the "Mees" could not dootherwise than knock her down if she so foolishly sprang in front ofcars without warning; and she might think herself lucky that the "Mees"would not run her in for being in the way! It has always struck me asbeing so humorous that in England if you knock a pedestrian over theycan have you up, while in France the law is just the reverse. She sobbedviolently, and I had to tell him that what she wanted was sympathy andnot scolding. 

It took me a day or two to get over that scalping expedition (of coursethe story was all round the camp within the hour!) and for some timeafter I slowed down crossing the bridge. This was the one and only timeanything of the sort ever happened to me, thank goodness!

Our camp began to look very smart, and the seeds we had sown in thespring came up and covered the huts with creepers. We had as manyflowers inside our huts as we could possibly get into the shell casesand other souvenirs which perforce were turned into flower vases--achange they must have thought rather singular. The steady boom of theguns used to annoy me intensely, for it shook the petals off the roseslong before they would otherwise have fallen, and I used to call out, crossly, "_Do_ stop that row, you're simply ruining my flowers. " Butthat made no difference to the distant gunners, who carried on night andday causing considerably more damage than the falling petals from myroses!

We began to classify the new girls as they came out, jokingly callingthem "Kitchener's" Army, "Derby's Scheme, " and finally, "Conscripts. "The old "regulars" of course put on most fearful side. It was amusingwhen an air-raid warning (a siren known as "mournful Mary") went at Messand the shrapnel began to fly, to see the new girls all rush out towatch the little white balls bursting in the sky, and the old hands notturning a hair but going on steadily with the bully beef or Maconochie, whichever it happened to be. Then one by one the new ones would slinkback rather ashamed of their enthusiasm and take their seats, and intime they in turn would smile indulgently as the still newer ones dashedout to watch. 

We had no dug-out to go to, even if we had wanted to. Our new mess tentwas built in the summer; and we said good-bye for ever to the murkygloom of the old Indian flapper. 

One day I had gone out to tea with Logan and Chris to an "Archie"station at Pont le Beurre. During a pause I heard the followingconversation take place. 

Host to Logan: "I suppose, being in a Convoy Camp, you hear nothing butmotor shop the whole time, and get to know quite a lot about them?"

"Rather, " replied Logan, who between you and me hardly knew one end of acar from the other, "I'm becoming quite conversant with the differentparts. One hears people exclaiming constantly: 'I've mislaid my big endand can't think where I've put the carburettor!'" The host, who appearedto know as much as she did, nodded sympathetically. 

Chris and I happened to catch the Captain's eye, and we laughed forabout five minutes. That big-end story went the round of the camp too, you may be quite sure. 

Besides the regular work of barges, evacuation, and trains we had to doall the ambulance work for the outlying camps, and cars were regularlydetailed for special _dépôts_ the whole day long. Barges arrived mostlyin the mornings, and I think the patients in them were more surprisedthan anyone to see girls driving out there, and were often not a littlefearful as to how we would cope! It was comforting to overhear them sayto each other on the journey: "This is fine, mate, ain't it?"

When we drove the cases to the hospital ships the long quay along whichwe took them barely allowed two cars to pass abreast. Turning when thecar was empty was therefore a ticklish business, and there was only oneplace where it could be done. If you made a slip, there was nothingbetween you and the sea 50 feet below. There was a dip in the platformat one point, and by backing carefully on to this, it was just possibleto turn, but to do so necessitated running forward in the direction ofthe quay, where there was barely the space of a foot left between thefront wheel and the edge. I know, sitting in the car, I never could seeany edge at all. If by any chance you misjudged this dip and backedagainst the edge of the platform by mistake the car, unable to mount it, rebounded and slid forward! It was always rather a breathlessperformance at first; and beginners, rather than risk it, backed thewhole length of the quay. I did so myself the first time, but it wassuch a necktwisting performance I felt I'd rather risk a ducking. Withpractice we were able to judge to a fraction just how near the edge wecould risk going, and the men on the hospital ships would hold theirbreath at the (I hope pardonable) swank of some of the more daringspirits who went just as near as they could and then looked up andlaughed as they drove down the quay. After I was in hospital in England, I heard that a new hand lost her head completely, and in Eva's newlypainted 'bus executed a spinning nose-dive right over the quay. A sightI wouldn't have missed for worlds. As she "touched water, " however, theF. A. N. Y. Spirit predominated. She was washed through the back of theambulance (luckily the front canvas was up), and as it sank shegallantly kicked off from the roof of the fast disappearing car. She wasan excellent swimmer, but two R. A. M. C. Men sprang overboard to herrescue, and I believe almost succeeded in drowning her in their efforts!This serves to show what an extremely touchy job it was, and one we hadto perform in fogs or the early hours of a winter's morning when it wasalmost too dark to see anything. Some Red Cross men drivers from Havrewatched us once, and declared their quay down there was wider by severalfeet, but no one ever turned on it. It seemed odd at home to see twogirls on army ambulances. We went distances of sixty miles or morealone, only taking an orderly when the cases were of a very seriousnature and likely to require attention _en route_. 

Once I remember I was returning from taking a new medical officer (acheerful individual, whose only remark during the whole of thatfifteen-mile run was, "I'm perished!") to an outlying camp. I wonderedat first if that was his name and he was introducing himself, but oneglance was sufficient to prove otherwise! On the way back alone, Ipaused to ask the way, as I had to return by another route. The man Ihad stopped (whom at first I had taken to be a Frenchman) was a Germanprisoner, so I started on again; but wherever I looked there werenothing but Germans, busily working at these quarries. No guards werein sight, as far as I could see, and I wondered idly if they would takeit into their heads to hold up the car, brain me, and escape. It wasonly a momentary idea though, for looking at these men, they seemed tobe quite incapable of thinking of anything so original. 

Coming back from B. One day I started a huge hare, and with the utmostdifficulty prevented the good Susan from turning off the road, leppingthe ditch, and pursuing 'puss' across the flat pastures. Some sporting'bus, I tell you!

The Tanks made their first appearance in September, and weird andwonderful were the descriptions given by the different men I asked whomI carried on my ambulance. They appeared to be anything in size from ahippopotamus to Buckingham Palace. It was one of the best kept secretsof the war. When anyone asked what was being made in the large foundriesemployed they received the non-committal reply "Tanks, " and so the namestuck. 

My last leave came off in the autumn, and while I was at home LamarckHospital closed on its second anniversary--October 31, 1916. TheBelgians now had a big hut hospital at the Porte de Gravelines, andwished to concentrate what sick and wounded they had there, instead ofhaving so many small hospitals. A great celebration took place, andthere was much bouquet handing and speechifying, etc. 

Our work for the Belgians did not cease with the closing of Lamarck, anda convoy was formed with the Gare Centrale as its headquarters, and soreleased the men drivers for the line. The hospital staff and equipmentmoved to Epernay, where a hospital was opened for the French in an oldMonastery and also a convoy of F. A. N. Y. Ambulances and cars wasattached, so that now we had units working for the British, French, andBelgians. Another unit was the one down at Camp de Ruchard, whereCrockett so ably ran a canteen for 700 convalescent Belgian soldiers, while Lady Baird, with a trained nurse, looked after the consumptives, of whom there were several hundreds. It will thus be seen that theF. A. N. Y. Was essentially an "active service" Corps with no units inEngland at all. 

I had a splendid leave, which passed all too quickly, and oddly enoughbefore I left home I had a sort of premonition that something was goingto happen; so much so that I even left an envelope with instructions ofwhat I wanted done with such worldly goods as I possessed. I felt thatin making such arrangements I might possibly avert any impendingcatastrophe!

Heasy was on leave as well, and the day we were due to go back was aSunday. The train was to leave Charing Cross at four, which meant thatwe would not embark till seven or thereabouts. It was wet and blustery, and I did not relish the idea of crossing in the dark at all, and couldnot help laughing at myself for being so funky. I had somehow quite madeup my mind we were going to be torpedoed. The people I was staying withragged me hard about it. It was the 5th of November, too! As I steppedout of the taxi at Charing Cross and handed my kit to the porter, heasked: "Boat train, Miss?" I nodded. "Been cancelled owin' to storm, " hesaid cheerfully. I leapt out, and I think I shook him by the hand in myjoy. France is all right when you get there; but the day you return islike going back to school. The next minute I saw Heasy's beaming face, and we were all over each other at the prospect of an extra day. My oldgodfather, who had come to see me off, was the funniest of all--apeppery Indian edition. "Not going?" he exclaimed, "I never heard ofsuch a thing! In my day there was not all this chopping and changing. " Ipointed out that he might at least express his joy that I was to be athome another day, and fuming and spluttering we returned to the D's. It's rather an anti-climax, after saying good-bye and receivingeveryone's blessing, to turn up suddenly once more!

Heasy and I duly met at Charing Cross next morning, to hear that oncemore the leave boat had been cancelled owing to loosened mines floatingabout. Again I returned to my friends who by this time seemed to think Ihad "come to stay. " On the Wednesday (we were now getting to know allthe porters quite well by sight) we really did get off; but when wearrived at Folkestone it was to find the platform crammed with returningleave-men and officers, and to hear the same tale--the boat had _again_been cancelled. None of the officers were being allowed to return totown, but by dint of good luck and a little palm oil, we dashed into acab and reached the other station just in time to catch the up-goingtrain. "We stay at an hotel to-night, " I said to Heasy, "I positivelywon't turn up at the D's _again_. " We got to town in time for lunch, andthen went to see the _Happy Day_, at Daly's (very well named wethought), where Heasy's brother was entertaining a party. He had seen usoff, "positively for the last time, " at 7. 30 that morning. We saw him inthe distance, and in the interval we instructed the programme girl totake round a slip of paper on which we printed:--"If you will come roundto Stalls 21 and 22 you will hear of something to your advantage. "George Heasman came round utterly mystified, and when he saw us oncemore, words quite failed him!

On the Thursday down we went again, and this time we actually _did_ geton board, though they kept us hanging about on the Folkestone platformfor hours before they decided, and the rain dripped down our necks fromthat inadequate wooden roofing that had obviously been put up by somewar profiteer on the cheap. The congestion was something frightful, andthere were twelve hundred on board instead of the usual seven or eight. "We can't blow _over_ at any rate, " I said cheerfully to Heasy, in amomentary lull in the gale. There were so many people on board thatthere was just standing room and that was all. We hastily swallowed somemore Mother-sill and hoped for the best (we had consumed almost a wholeboxful owing to our many false starts). We were in the highest spirits. The only other woman on board was an army sister, who came and stoodnear us. Lifebelts were ordered to be put on, and as I tied Heasy's theaforementioned Sister turned to me and said: "You ought to tie thattighter; it will come undone very easily in the waves!" Heasy and I wereconvulsed, and so were all the people within earshot. "You mustn't be socheerful, " I said, as soon as I could speak. 

It was the roughest crossing I've ever experienced, and there was notime to indulge in "that periscope feeling, " so aptly described byBairnsfather; we were too busy exercising Christian Science on our"innards" and trying not to think of all the indigestible things we'deaten the night before! We rose on mountains of waves one moment andthen descended into positive valleys the next. I swear I would have beenperfectly all right if I had not heard an officer say "I hope it willnot be too rough to get into Boulogne harbour. The last time I crossedwe had to return to Folkestone!" * * * * Luckily his fears wereincorrect, and at last we arrived in the harbour, and I never was soglad to see France in all my life! The F. A. N. Y. S had almost given us upfor good, and were all very envious when they heard of our adventures. 

Towards the end of that month the "Britannic, " a hospital ship, wastorpedoed. As a preventive measure against future outrages of the kind(not that it would have made the Germans hesitate for a moment) twentyprisoners were detailed to accompany each hospital ship on the voyage toEngland. These men, under one of their own Sergeant-Majors, sat on theedge of the platform until all the wounded were on board, and then weremarched on into a little wooden shelter specially erected. As they saton the edge, their feet rested on the narrow quay along which we drove, and I loved to go as near as possible and pretend I was going over them, just for the fun of watching the Boches roll on their backs in terrorwith their feet high in the air. A new method of saying _Kamerad_! Thoseprisoners did not care for me very much, I don't think, and I alwayshope I shan't meet any of them _après la guerre_. Unfortunately thispastime was stopped by the vigilant E. M. O. 

My hut was closed for "winter decorations, " and the crême de menthecoloured panthers were covered up by a hunting frieze. It was apriceless show, one of the field appearing in a _chic_ pair of redgloves! I suppose they had some extra paint over from the pink coats. Scene I. Was the meet, with the fox lurking well within sight behind asmall gorse bush, but funnily enough not a hound got wind of him. SceneIII. Was a good water-jump where one of the field had taken a toss rightinto the middle of a stream. Considering the sandy spot he had chosen asa take-off, he had no one to thank but himself. A lady further up on agrey, obviously suffering from spavin, was sailing over like a two-yearold. The last scene was of course a kill, the gentleman in the pinkgloves on the black horse being well to the fore. Altogether it was mostpleasing. Silk hunting "hankies" in yellow and other vivid colours, ditto with full field, took the place of the now chilly lookingReckitt's blue, and a Turkey rug on the floor completed thetransformation. 

When an early evacuation was not in progress, breakfast was at eighto'clock, and at 10 minutes to, the whistles went for parade, which washeld in the square just in front of the cars. Those who were late wereput on fatigues without more ado, but in the ordinary way if there wereno delinquents we took it in turns, two every day. 

Often when that first whistle went, it found a good many of us still"complete in flea-bag, " and that scramble to get into things and appear"fully dressed" was an art in itself. An overcoat, muffler, and a pairof field boots went a long way to complete this illusion. Once however, Boss, to everyone's pained surprise, said, "Will the troopers kindlytake off their overcoats!" With great reluctance this was done amidshouts of laughter as three of us stood divested of coats in gaudypyjamas. 

Fatigue consisted of two things: One--"Tidying up the Camp, " which was acomprehensive term and meant folding up everyone's bonnet covers andputting them in neat piles near the mess hut, collecting cotton wasteand grease tins, etc. , and weeding the garden (a rotten job). The secondwas called "Doing the stoke-hole, " i. E. Cleaning out the ashes from thehuge boiler that heated the bath water, chopping sticks, laying thefire, and brushing the "hole" up generally. 

Opinions were divided as to the merits of those two jobs. Neither waspopular of course, but we could choose. The latter certainly had itspoints, because once done it was done for the day, while the formermight be tidy at nine, and yet by 10 o'clock lumps of cotton waste mightbe blowing all over the place, tins and bonnet covers once more inuntidy heaps. I often "did the boiler, " but I simply hated chopping thesticks. One day the axe was firmly fixed in a piece of hard wood and Iwas vainly hitting it against the block, with eyes tight shut, when Iheard a chuckle from the top of the steps. I looked up and there was aTommy looking down into the hole, watching the proceedings. Where he'dcome from I don't know. "Call those 'ands?" he asked. "'Ere, give it tome"--indicating the axe. "I guess y'aint chopped many sticks, 'ave yer?""No, " I said; "and I'm terrified of the thing!" I sat on the steps andwatched him deftly slicing the wood into thin slips. "This is afatigue, " I said, by way of an explanation. That tickled him! He stoppedand chuckled, "You do fatigues just the same as we do?" he asked. "Inever heard anything to beat that. Well I never, wot's the crime, Iwonder? Look 'ere, " he added, "I'll chop you enough to last fatigues fora month, and you put 'em somewhere in the meantime, " and in tenminutes, mark you, there was a pile that rejoiced my heart. He was a"Bird, " that man, and no mistake. 

After brekker was over the first thing that had to be done beforeanything else was to get one's 'bus running and in order for the day. Once that was done we could do our huts, provided no jobs had come in;and when that was done the engine had to be thoroughly cleaned, and thenthe car. I might add that this is an ideal account of the proceedingsfor, as often as not, we went out the minute the cars were started. Three days elapsed sometimes before the hut could have a "turn out. " Onthese occasions one just rolled into one's bed at night unmade andunturned, too tired to care one way or the other. 

Some of the girls got a Frenchwoman, "Alice" by name, to do their "cues"for them. She used to bring her small baby with her and dump him downanywhere in the corridor, sometimes in a waste paper basket, till shewas done. One morning he howled bitterly for about an hour, and at lastI went out to see what could be the matter. "Oh, Mees, it is that he hasburnt himself against the stove, the careless one" (he couldn't walk, soit must have been her own fault). "I took him to a _Pharmacie_ but hehas done nothing but cry ever since. "

Now I had fixed up a small _Pharmacie_ in one of the empty "cues, "complete with sterilised dressings and rows of bottles, and bandaged upwhatever cuts and hurts there were, in fact my only sorrow was therewere not more "cases. " Considering the many men we had had at Lamarckburnt practically all over from fire-bombs, I suggested that she shouldbring the baby into the _Pharmacie_ and see if I could do anything forit. She was quite willing, and carried it in, when I undid the littlearm (only about six inches long) burnt from the elbow to the wrist! Thechemist had simply planked on some zinc ointment and lint. I got somewarm boracic and soaked it off gently, though the little thing redoubledits yells, and a small crowd of F. A. N. Y. S dashed down the passage to seewhat was up. "It's only Pat killing a baby" was one of the cheerfulexplanations I heard. So encouraging for me. I dressed it with Carronoil and to my relief the wails ceased. She brought it every morningafter that, and I referred proudly to my "out-patient" who made greatprogress. Within ten days the arm had healed up, and Alice was mydevoted follower from that time on. 

We had a lot of work that autumn, and barges came down regularly asclockwork. Many of these cases were taken to the Duchess of Sutherland'sHospital. She had given up the Bourbourg Belgian one some time beforeand now had one for the British, where the famous Carroll-Dakintreatment was given. One night, taking some cases to the Casinohospital, there was a boy on board with his eyes bandaged. He hadevidently endeared himself to the Sister on the train, for she camealong with the stretcher bearers and saw him safely into my car. "Good-bye, Sister, " I heard him say, in a cheery voice, "thank you athousand times for your kindness--you wait till my old eyes are betterand I'll come back and see you. I know you must look nice, " hecontinued, with a laugh, "you've got such a kind voice. "

Tears were in her eyes as she came round to speak to me and whisper thatit was a hopeless case; he had been so severely injured he would neversee again. 

I raged inwardly against the powers that cared not a jot who suffered solong as their own selfish ends were achieved. 

That journey was one of the worst I've ever done. If the boy had notbeen so cheerful it would have been easier, but there he lay chattingbreezily to me through the canvas, wanting to know all about our workand asking hundreds of questions. "You wait till I get home, " he said, "I'll have the best eye chap there is, you bet your life. By Jove, itwill be splendid to get these bandages off, and see again. "

Was the war worth even one boy's eyesight? No, I thought not. 

CHAPTER XIV

CHRISTMAS, 1916

Taking some wounded Germans to No. 14 hospital one afternoon we werestopped on the way by a road patrol, a new invention to preventjoy-riding. Two Tommies rushed out from the hedges, like highwaymen ofold, waving little red flags (one of the lighter efforts of the WarOffice). Perforce we had to draw up while one of them went into the_Estaminet_ (I noticed they always chose their quarters well) to bringout the officer. His job was to examine papers and passes, and sort thesheep from the goats, allowing the former to proceed and turning thelatter away!

The man in question was evidently new to the work and was exceedinglyfussy and officious. He scanned my pink pass for some time and thenasked, "Where are you going?" "Wimereux, " I replied promptly. He lookedat the pass again--"It's got "_W_imer_oo_, " here, and not what _you_said, " he answered suspiciously. "Some people pronounce it 'Vimerer, 'nevertheless, " I could not refrain from replying, rather tartly. 

Again he turned to the pass, and as it started to snow in stinginggusts (and I was so obviously one of the "sheep"), I began to chafe atthe delay. 

As if anyone would joy-ride in such weather without a wind screen, Ithought disgustedly. (None of the cars had them. )

"Whom have you got in behind?" was the next query. 

I leant forward as if imparting a secret of great importance, and said, in a stage whisper: "Germans!"

He jumped visibly, and the two flag-wagging Tommies grinned delightedly. After going to the back to find out if this was so, he at last veryreluctantly returned my pass. 

"Thinks we're all bloomin' spies, " said one of the guards, as at last weset off to face the blinding snow, that literally was blinding, it wasso hard to see. The only method was to shut first one eye and then theother, so that they could rest in turns!

On the way back we passed a motor hearse stuck on the Wimereux hill withfour coffins in behind, stretcher-wise. 

The guard gave a grunt. "Humph, " said he, "They makes yer form foursright up to the ruddy grave, they do!"

We were not so far from civilization in our Convoy as one might havesupposed, for among the men in the M. T. Yard was a hairdresser from theSavoy Hotel!

He made a diffident call on Boss one day and said it would give himgreat pleasure to shampoo and do up the "young ladies' hair" for them inhis spare time "to keep his hand in. " He was afraid if the war lastedmuch longer he might forget the gentle art!

We rose to the occasion and were only too delighted, and from thenonwards he became a regular institution up at the Convoy. 

News was brought to us of the torpedoing of the "Sussex, " and theterrible suffering the crew and passengers endured. It was thought aftershe was struck she would surely sink, and many deaths by drowningoccurred owing to overcrowding the lifeboats. Like the "Zulu, " however, when day dawned it was found she was able to come into Boulogne underher own steam. After driving some cases over there, I went to see theremains in dry dock. It was a ghastly sight, made all the more poignantas one could see trunks and clothes lying about in many of the cabins, which were open to the day as if a transverse section had been made. Theonly humorous incident that occurred was that King Albert was arrestedwhile taking a photo of it! I don't think for a moment they recognizedwho he was, for, with glasses, and a slight stoop, he does not lookexactly like the photos one sees, and they probably imagined he wasbluffing. He was marched off looking intensely amused! One of the Frenchguards, when I expressed my disappointment at not being able to get aphoto, gave me the address of a friend of his who had taken someofficial ones for France, so I hurried off, and was lucky to get them. 

The weather became atrocious as the winter advanced and our none toowater-tight huts showed distinct signs of warping. We only had onethickness of matchboarding in between us and the elements, and, withoutlooking out of the windows, I could generally ascertain through theslits what was going on in the way of weather. I had chosen my "cue"looking sea-ward because of the view and the sunsets, but then that wasin far away Spring. Eva's was next door, and even more exposed thanmine. When we happened to mention this state of affairs to Colonel C. , he promised us some asbestos to line the outer wall if we could findsomeone to put it up. 

Another obliging friend lent us his carpenter to do the job--a burlyScot. The fact that we cleaned our own cars and went about the camp inriding breeches and overalls, not unlike land-girls' kit, left himalmost speechless. 

The first day all he could say was, "Weel, weel, I never did"--atintervals. 

The second day he had recovered himself sufficiently to look round andtake a little notice. 

"Ye're one o' them artists, I'm thinkin', " he said, eyeing my panthersdisparagingly. (The hunting frieze had been taken down temporarily tillthe asbestos was fixed. )

"No, you mustn't think that, " I said apologetically. 

"Ha ye no men to do yon dirty worrk for ye?" and he nodded in directionof the cars. "Scandalizing, and no less, " was his comment when he heardthere were not. In two days' time he reported to his C. O. That the jobwas finished, and the latter overheard him saying to a pal, "Aye mon, but A've had ma outlook on life broadened these last two days. " B. 'phoned up hastily to the Convoy to know what exactly we had done withhis carpenter. 

Work was slack in the Autumn owing to the fearful floods of rain, andseveral of the F. A. N. Y. S took up fencing and went once a week at eighto'clock to a big "Salle d'Escrime" off the Rue Royale. A famous Belgianfencer, I forget his name, and a Frenchman, both stationed in thevicinity, instructed, and "Squig" kindly let me take her lessons whenshe was on leave. Fencing is one of the best tests I know for teachingyou to keep your temper. When my foil had been hit up into the air aboutthree times in succession to the triumphant _Riposte!_ of the littleFrenchman, I would determine to keep "Quite cool. " In spite of all, however, when I lunged forward it was with rather a savage stamp, whichhe would copy delightedly and exclaim triumphantly--"Mademoiselle sefâche!" I could have killed that Frenchman cheerfully! His quick orders"_Paré, paré--quatre, paré--contre--Riposté!_" etc. Left mecompletely bewildered at first. Hope was a great nut with the foils andshe and the Frenchman had veritable battles, during which the littleman, on his mettle and very excited, would squeal exactly like arabbit. The big Belgian was more phlegmatic and not so easily moved. 

One night I espied a pair of boxing gloves and pulled them on whilewaiting for my turn. "Mademoiselle knows _la boxe_?" he askedinterestedly. 

"A little, a very little, Monsieur, " I replied. "Only what my brothershowed me long ago. "

"Montrez, " said he, drawing on a pair as well, and much to the amusementof the others we began preliminary sparring. "Mademoiselle knows_ze-k_-nock-oot?" he hazarded. 

I did not reply, for at that moment he lifted his left arm, leaving hisheart exposed. Quick as lightning I got in a topper that completelywinded him and sent him reeling against the wall. When he got his breathback he laughed till the tears rolled down his cheeks, and whenever Imet him in the street he flew up a side alley in mock terror. I wasalways designated after that as _Mademoiselle qui sait la boxe--oh, lala_!

In spite of repeated efforts on the part of R. E. S. There was a spot inthe roof through which the rain persistently dripped on to my face inthe night. They never could find it, so the only solution was to sleepthe other way up! _C'est la guerre_, and that's all there was to it. 

One cold blustery day I had left "Susan" at the works in Boulogne andwas walking along by the fish market when I saw a young fair-hairedstaff officer coming along the pavement toward me. "His face is veryfamiliar, " I thought to myself, and then, quick as a flash--"Why, it'sthe Prince of Wales, of course!" He seemed to be quite alone, and exceptfor ourselves the street was deserted. How to cope? To bob or not tobob, that was the question? Then I suddenly realized that in a stiffpair of Cording's boots and a man's sheepskin-lined mackintosh, stickingout to goodness knows where, it would be a sheer impossibility. Ihastily reviewed the situation. If I salute, I thought, he may think I'mtaking a liberty! I decided miserably to do neither and hoped he wouldthink I had not recognized him at all. [13] As we came abreast I lookedstraight ahead, getting rather pink the while. Once past and callingmyself all manner of fools, I thought "I'm going to turn round, andstare. One doesn't meet a Prince every day, and in any case 'a cat maylook at a king!'" I did so--the Prince was turning round too! He smileddelightfully, giving me a wonderful salute, which I returned and went onmy way joyfully, feeling that it had been left to him to save thesituation, and very proud to think I had had a salute all to myself. 

Christmas came round before we knew where we were, and Boss gave theorder it was to be celebrated in our own mess. Work was slack just thenand Mrs. Williams gave a tea and dance in the afternoon at her canteenup at Fontinettes. It was a picturesque-looking place with red brickfloor, artistic-looking tables with rough logs for legs and a large openfireplace, typically English, which must have rejoiced the hearts of menso far from Blighty. 

It was a very jolly show, in spite of my partner bumping his headagainst the beam every time we went round, and people came from far andnear. It was over about five, and we hastened back to prepare for ourChristmas dinner in Mess. 

Fancy dress had been decided on, and as it was to be only amongourselves we were given carte blanche as to ideas. They were of courseall kept secret until the last moment. Baby went as a Magpie and lookedvery striking, the black and white effect being obtained by draping awhite towel straight down one side over the black nether garmentsbelonging to our concert party kit. 

I decided to go as a _Vie Parisienne_ cover. A study in black anddaffodil--a ravishing confection--and also used part of our "FANTASTIK"kit, but made the bodice out of crinkly yellow paper. A chrysanthemum ofthe same shade in my hair, which was skinned back in the latestdoor-knob fashion, completed the get-up. 

Baby and I met on our way across the camp and drifted into messtogether, and as we slowly divested ourselves of our grey wolf-coats wewere hailed with yells of delight. 

Dicky went as Charlie's Aunt, and Winnie as the irresistible nephew. Evawas an art student from the Quartier Latin, and Bridget a charmingtwo-year old. The others came in many and various disguises. 

We all helped to clear away in order to dance afterwards, and as I raninto the cook-house with some plates I met the mechanic laden with thetray from his hut. 

The momentary glimpse of the _Vie Parisienne_ was almost too much forthe good Brown. I heard a startled "Gor blimee! Miss" and saw his eyespopping out of his head as he just prevented the tray from eluding hisgrasp!

Soon after Christmas a grain-ship, while entering Boulogne harbour in astorm, got blown across and firmly fixed between the two jetties, whichare not very wide apart. To make matters worse its back broke and soformed an effectual barrier to the harbour and took from a fortnight tothree weeks to clear away. 

Traffic was diverted to the other ports, and for the time being Boulognebecame almost like a city of the dead. 

One port had been used solely for hospital ships up till then, and thescenes of bustle and confusion that replaced the comparative calm werealmost indescribable. We saw many friends returning from Christmasleave, who for the most part had not the faintest idea where they hadarrived. There were not enough military cars to transport the men toFontinettes, so besides our barge and hospital work we were temporarilycommissioned by the Local Transport Office. 

I was detailed to take two officers inspecting the Archic stations northof St. Omer one wet snowy afternoon, and many were the adventures wehad. It was a great thing to get up right behind our lines to placeswhere we had never been before, and Susan ploughed through the mud likea two-year old, and never even so much as punctured. We were on our wayback at a little place called Pont l'Abbesse, about 6. 30, when the snowcame down in blinding gusts. With only two side lamps, and a pitch darknight, the prospect of ever finding our way home seemed nil, and everyroad we took was bordered by a deep canal, with nothing in the way of afence as protection. It was bitterly cold, and once we got completelylost; three-quarters of an hour later finding ourselves at the samecottage where we had previously asked the way!

At last we found a staff car that promised to give us a lead, and intime we reached the main St. Omer road, finally getting back toPont-le-Beurre about 10 p. M. I 'phoned up to the Convoy to tell them Iwas still in the land of the living, and after a bowl of hot soup spedback to camp. 

My hands were so cold I had to sit on them in turns, and as for feet, Ididn't seem to have any. Still it was "some run, " and the next day Ispent a long time hosing off the thick clay which almost completely hidthe good Susan from sight. 

Another temporary job we had was to drive an army sister (a sort offemale Military Landing Officer) to the boat every day, where she metthe sisters coming back from leave and directed them to the differentunits and hospitals. 

One of the results of the closing of Boulogne harbour was that insteadof the patients being evacuated straight to England we had to drivethem into Boulogne, where they were entrained for Havre! A terriblejourney, poor things. Twenty to twenty-four ambulances would set off todo the thirty kilometres in convoy, led at a steady pace by the SectionLeader. These journeys took place three times a week, and often the menwould get bitterly cold inside the cars. If there was one puncture inthe Convoy we all had to stop till a spare wheel was put on. We eagerlytook the opportunity to get down and do stamping exercises and "cabby"arms to try and get warm. To my utmost surprise, on one of theseoccasions my four stretcher patients got up and danced in the road withme. Why they were "liers" instead of "sitters" I can't think, as therewas not much wrong with them. _À propos_ I remember asking one nightwhen an ambulance train came in in the dark, "Are you liers or sittersin here?" and one humorist scratched his head and replied, "I don'trightly know, Sister, I've told a few in my time!" To return to our longconvoy journeys: once we had deposited our patients it was notunnaturally the desire of this "dismounted cavalry" unit to try thespeed of its respective 'buses one against the other on the returnjourney; to our immense disappointment this idea was completely nippedin the bud, for Boss rode on the first car. 

Permission however was given to pass on hills, as it was considered apity to overheat a car going down to second gear when it could easilyhave done the hill on third! That Boulogne road is one of the hilliestin France, and Susan was a nailer on hills. I remember arriving in campsecond one day. "How have _you_ got here?" asked Boss in surprise, "Ipurposely put you nineteenth!"

Heasy, Betty, and I in celebration of two years' active service hadpermission to give a small dance in the mess at the beginning of the newyear. We trembled lest at the last moment an ambulance train mightarrive, but there was nothing worse than an early evacuation nextmorning and all went off excellently. I was entrusted to make the "cup, "and bought the ingredients in the town (some cup), and gravely assuredeveryone there was absolutely "nothing in it. " The boracic powder waslifted in my absence from the _Pharmacie_ to try and get the firstglimmerings of a slide on that sticky creosoted floor. The ambulances, fitted with paper Chinese lanterns, were temporarily converted intositting out places. It was a great show. 

There was one job in the Convoy we all loathed like poison; it was knownas "corpses. " There was no chance of dodging unpopular jobs, for theyworked out on an absolutely fair system. For instance, the first timethe telephone bell went after 8 a. M. (anything before that was countednight duty) it was taken by a girl whose name came first in alphabeticalorder. She rushed out to her car, but before going "warned" B. That whenthe bell next went it would be _her_ job, and so on throughout the day. If you were "warned, " it was an understood thing that you did not beginany long job on the car but stayed more or less in readiness. If thejobs got half through the alphabet by nightfall the last girl warnedknew she was first for it the next morning. 

To return to the corpses. What happened was that men were frequentlyfalling into the canals and docks and were not discovered till perhapsthree weeks later. An ambulance was then rung up, and the corpse, orwhat remained of it, was taken to the mortuary. 

One day Bobs was called on to give evidence at a Court of Enquiry withregard to a corpse she had driven, as there was some mystification withregard to the day and hour at which it was found. As she stepped smartlyup to the table the Colonel asked her how, when it occurred some tendays ago, she could be sure it was 4. 30 when she arrived on the scene. 

"It was like this, " said she. "When I heard it was a corpse, I thoughtI'd have my tea first!" (This was almost as bad as the tape measureepisode and was of course conclusive. I might add, corpses were the onlyjobs that were not allowed to interfere with meals. )

"Foreign bodies, " in the shape of former Belgian patients, often driftedup to camp in search of the particular "Mees" who had tended them atLamarck, as often as not bringing souvenirs made at great pains in thetrenches as tokens of their gratitude. It touched us very much to knowthat they had not forgotten. 

One night when my evening duty was nearing its close and I was justpreparing to go to my hut the telephone bell rang, and I was told to godown to the hospital ship we had just loaded that afternoon for a manreported to be in a dying condition, and not likely to stand the journeyacross to England--I never could understand why those cases should havebeen evacuated at all if there was any possibility of them becomingsuddenly worse; but I suppose a certain number of beds had to be clearedfor new arrivals, and individuals could not be considered. It seemedvery hard. 

I drove down to the Quay in the inky blackness, it was a specially darknight, turned successfully, and reported I had come for the case. 

An orderly, I am thankful to say, came with him in the car and satbehind holding his hand. 

The boy called incessantly for his mother and seemed hardly to realizewhere he was. I sat forward, straining my eyes in the darkness alongthat narrow quay, on the look-out for the many holes I knew were onlytoo surely there. 

The journey seemed to take hours, and I answered a query of theorderly's as to the distance. 

The boy heard my voice and mistook me for one of the Sisters, and thenfollowed one of the most trying half-hours I have ever been through. 

He seemed to regain consciousness to a certain extent and asked me fromtime to time, "Sister, am I dying?"

"Will I see me old mother again, Sister?"

"Why have you taken me off the Blighty ship, Sister?"

Then there would be silence for a space, broken only by groans and anoccasional "Christ, but me back 'urts crool, " and all the comfort Icould give was that we would be there soon, and the doctor would dosomething to ease the pain. 

Thank God, at last we arrived at the Casino. One of the most tryingthings about ambulance driving is that while you long to get the patientto hospital as quickly as possible you are forced to drive slowly. Ijumped out and cautioned the orderlies to lift him as gently as theycould, and he clung on to my hand as I walked beside the stretcher intothe ward. 

"You're telling me the truth, Sister? I don't want to die, I tell youthat straight, " he said. "Goodbye and God bless you; I'll come and seeyou in the morning, " I said, and left him to the nurses' tender care. Iwent down early next day but he had died at 3 a. M. Somebody's son andonly nineteen. That sort of job takes the heart out of you for somedays, though Heaven knows we ought to have got used to anything by thattime. 

To make up for the wet autumn a hard frost set in early in the year. 

The M. T. Provided us with anti-freezing mixture for the radiators, butthe antifreezing cheerfully froze! We tried emptying them at night, turning off the petrol and running the engine till the carburettor wasdry (for even the petrol was not above freezing), and wrapping up theengines as carefully as if they were babies, but even that failed. 

Starting the cars up in the morning (a detail I see I have not mentionedso far), even in ordinary times quite a hard job, now became doubly so. 

It was no uncommon sight to see F. A. N. Y. S lying supine across thebonnets of their cars, completely winded by their efforts. The morningair was full of sobbing breaths and groans as they swung in vain! Thisprocess was known as "getting her loose"--(I'm referring to the car notthe F. A. N. Y. , though, from personal experience, it's quite applicable toboth. )

Brown or Johnson (the latter had replaced Kirkby) was secured to come ifpossible and give the final fillip that set the engine going. It's awell-known thing that you may turn at a car for ten minutes and not gether going, and a fresh hand will come and do so the first time. 

This swinging left one feeling like nothing on earth, and sometimes wasa day's work in itself. 

In spite of all the precautions we took, whatever water was left in thewater pipes and drainings at the bottom of the radiators froze solidly, and sure enough, when we had got them going, clouds of steam rose intothe air. The frost had come to stay and moreover it was a black one. 

Something had to be done to solve the problem for it was imperative forevery car to be ready for the road first thing in the morning. 

Camp fires were suggested, but were impracticable, and then it was that"Night Guards" were instituted. 

Four girls sat up all night, and once every hour turned out to crank upthe cars, run them with bonnet covers on till they were thoroughly warm, and then tuck them up again till the next time. We had from four to fivecars each, and it will give some idea of the extreme cold to say thatwhen we came to crank them again, in roughly three-quarters of an hour'stime, they were _almost_ cold. The noise must have been heard for somedistance when the whole Convoy was roaring and racing at once like asmall inferno. But in spite of this, I know that when it was not ourturn to sit up we others never woke. 

As soon as the cars were tucked up and silent again we raced back to thecook-house, where we threw ourselves into deck chairs, played thegramophone, made coffee to keep us awake, or read frightening books--Iremember I read "Bella Donna" on one of these occasions and wouldn'thave gone across the camp alone if you'd paid me. A grand midnightsupper also took up a certain amount of time. 

That three-quarters of an hour positively flew, and seemed more like tenminutes, but punctually at the second we had to turn out again, willy-nilly--into that biting cold with the moon shining frostily overeverything apparently turning it into steel. 

The trouble was that as the frost continued water became scarce--bathshad stopped long ago--and it began to be a question of getting even abasinful to wash in. Face creams were extensively applied as the onlymeans of saving what little complexions we had left! The streets of thetown were in a terrible condition owing principally to the hygieniccustoms of the inhabitants who _would_ throw everything out of theirfront doors or windows. The consequence was that, without exaggeration, the ice in some places was two feet thick, and every day fresh layerswere formed as the French housewives threw out more water. No oneremained standing in a perpendicular position for long, and thedifficulty was, once down, how to get up again. 

Finally water became so scarce we had to bring huge cans in a lorry fromthe M. T. , one of the few places not frozen out, and there was usuallyice on them when they arrived in camp. Then the water even began tofreeze as we filled up our radiators; and, finally, we were reduced tochopping up the ice in our tank and melting it for breakfast! Onemorning, however, Bridget came to me in great distress. "What on earthshall I do, " said she, "I've finished all the ice, and there's not a bitleft to make the tea for breakfast? I know you'll think of something, "she added hopefully. 

I had been on night guard and the idea of no hot tea was a positivecalamity. 

I thought for some minutes. "Here, give me the jug, " I said, and out Iwent. After looking carefully round to see that I was not observed, Iquietly tapped one of the radiators. 

"I'll tell you after breakfast where it came from, " I said, as Ireturned with the full jug. Bridget seized it joyfully and must havebeen a bit suspicious as it was still warm, but she was much too wise toask any questions. 

We had a cheery breakfast, and when it was over I called out, "I hopeyou all feel very much better and otherwise radiating? You ought to atall events!"

"Why?" they asked curiously. "Well, you've just drunk tea made out of'radium, '" I replied. "Absolutely priceless stuff, known to a few of thefirst families by its original name of 'radiator water, '" and I escapedwith speed to the fastnesses of my hut. 

THE STORY OF A PERFECT DAY

 (_From "Barrack Room Ballads of the F. A. N. Y. Corps, " By kind permission of Winifred Mordaunt, F. A. N. Y. _)

 We were smoking and absently humming To anyone there who could play-- (We'd finished our tea in the Mess hut Awaiting an ambulance train--) Roasting chestnuts some were, while the rest, Cut up toffee or sang a refrain. Outside was a bitter wind shrieking-- (Thank God for a fug in the Mess!) Never mind if the old stove is reeking If only the cold's a bit less-- But one of them starts and then shivers (A goose walking over her tomb) Gazes out at the rain running rivers And says to the group in the room: "Just supposing the 'God of Surprises' Appeared in the glow of a coal, With a promise before he demises To take us away from this hole And do just whatever we long to do. Tell me your perfect day. " Said one, "Why, to fly to an island Far away in a deep blue lagoon; One would never be tired in my land Nor ever get up too soon. " "Every time, " cried the girl darning stockings, "We'd surf-ride and bathe in the sea, We'd wear nothing but little blue smockings And eat mangoes and crabs for our tea. " "Oh no!" said a third, "that's a rotten Idea of a perfect day; I long to see mountains forgotten, Once more hear the bells of a sleigh. I'd give all I have in hard money For one day of ski-ing again, And to see those white mountains all sunny Would pretty well drive me insane. " Then a girl, as she flicked cigarette ash Most carelessly on to the floor, Had a feeling just then that her pet "pash" Would be a nice car at the door, To motor all day without fagging-- Not to drive nor to start up the thing. Oh! the joy to see someone else dragging A tow-rope or greasing a spring! Then a fifth murmured, "What about fishing? Fern and heather right up to your knees And a big salmon rushing and swishing 'Mid the smell of the red rowan trees. " So the train of opinions drifted And thicker the atmosphere grew, Till piercing the voices uplifted Rang a sound I was sure I once knew. A sound that set all my nerves singing And ran down the length of my spine, A great pack of hounds as they're flinging Themselves on a new red-hot line! A bit of God's country is stretching As far as the hawk's eye can see, The bushes are leafless, like etching, As all good dream fences should be. There isn't a bitter wind blowing But a soft little southerly breeze, And instead of the grey channel flowing A covert of scrub and young trees. The field of course is just dozens Of people I want to meet so-- Old friends, to say nothing of cousins Who've been killed in the war months ago. Three F. A. N. Y. S are riding like fairies Having drifted right into my dreams, And they're riding their favourite "hairies" That have been dead for years, so it seems. A ditch that I've funked with precision For seasons, and passed by in fear, I now leap with a perfect decision That never has marked my career. For a dream-horse has never yet stumbled; Far away hounds don't know how to flag. A dream-fence would melt ere it crumbled, And the dream-scent's as strong as a drag. Of course the whole field I have pounded Lepping high five-barred gates by the score, And I don't seem the least bit astounded, Though I never have done it before! At last a glad chorus of yelling, Proclaims my dream-fox has been viewed-- But somewhere some stove smoke is smelling Which accounts for my feeling half stewed-- And somewhere the F. A. N. Y. S are talking And somebody shouts through the din: "What a horrible habit of snoring-- Hit her hard--wake her up--the train's in. "

CHAPTER XV

CONVOY PETS, COMMANDEERING, AND THE "FANTASTIKS"

We took turns to go out on "all-night duty"; a different thing fromnight guards, and meant taking any calls that came through after 9 p. M. And before 8 a. M. Next morning. 

They were usually from outlying camps for men who had been taken ill orelse for stranded Army Sisters arriving at the Gare about 3 a. M. Waitingto be taken to their billets. 

It was comparatively cheery to be on this job when night guards were inprogress, as there were four hefty F. A. N. Y. S sitting up in thecook-house, your car warm and easy to crank, and, joy of joys, a hotdrink for you when you came back!

In the ordinary way as one scrambled into warm sweaters and top coatsthe dominant thought was, would the car start all right out there, withnot a hand to give a final fillip once the "getting loose" process wasaccomplished?

Luckily my turns came round twice during night guards, and the last timeI had to go for a pneumonia case to Beau Marais. It was a brightmoonlight night, almost as light as day, with everything glittering inthe frozen snow. Susan fairly hopped it! After having found the case, which took some doing, and deposited him in No. 30 hospital, I sped backto camp. 

As I crossed the Place d'Armes and drove up the narrow Rue de la Mer, Susan seemed to take a sudden header and almost threw a somersault! Ihad gone into an invisible hole in the ice, two feet deep, extendinghalf across the street. For some reason it had melted (due probably toan underground bakery in the vicinity). I reversed anxiously and thenhopped out to feel Susan's springs as one might a horse's knees. Thankgoodness they had not snapped, so backing all the way down the streetagain, relying on the moon for light, I proceeded cautiously by anotherroute and got back without further mishap. 

Our menagerie was gradually increasing. There were now three dogs andtwo cats in camp, not to mention a magpie and two canaries, more ofwhich anon. There was Wuzzy, of course, and Archie (a naughty lookinglittle Sealyham belonging to Heasy) and a mongrel known as G. K. W. (Godknows what) that ran in front of a visiting Red Cross touring car oneday and found itself in the position of the young lady of Norway, whosat herself down in the doorway! I did not witness the untimely end, butI believe it was all over in a minute. 

One cat belonged to Eva, a plain-looking animal, black with a half-whiteface, christened "Miss Dip" (an inspiration on my part suggested by thedonor's name, on the "Happy Family" principle). She was the apple of hereye, nevertheless, and nightly Eva could be heard calling "Dip, Dip, Dip, " all over the camp to fetch her to bed. Incidentally it becamequite an Angelus for us. 

Considering the way she hunted all the meat shops for tit bits, that catought to have been a show animal--but it wasn't. One day as our fairyLowson was lightly jumping from a window-sill she inadvertently "came incontact" with Dip's tail, the extreme tip of which was severed inconsequence! In wrathful indignation Eva rushed Dip down to the Casinoin an ambulance, where one of the foremost surgeons of the day operatedwith skill and speed and made a neat job of it, to the entiresatisfaction of all concerned. If her tail still remains square at theend she can tell her children she was _blessée dans la guerre_. Theother cat was a tortoiseshell and appropriately called "Melisande in theWood, " justified by the extraordinary circumstances in which she wasdiscovered. One day at No. 35 hut hospital I saw three of the menhunting in a bank opposite, covered with undergrowth and small shrubs. They told me that for the past three days a kitten had been heardmewing, but in spite of all their efforts to find it, they had failed todo so. I listened, and sure enough heard a plaintive mew. The place wasa network of clinging roots, but presently I crawled in and found it wasjust possible to get along on hands and knees. It was mostmysterious--the kitten could be heard quite loud one minute, and whenwe got to the exact spot it would be some distance away again. (Itreminded me of the Dutch ventriloquist's trick in Lamarck). It was sucha plaintive mew I was determined to find that kitten if I stayed thereall night. At last it dawned on me, it must be in a rabbit hole; andsure enough after pushing and pulling my way along to the top of thebank, I found one over which a fall of earth had successfully pushedsome wire netting from the fence above. I waited patiently, and in duetime caught sight of a little black, yellow, and white kitten; but theminute I made a grab for it, it bolted. I pulled the netting away, butthe hole was much too deep for so small a creature to get out by itself, and it was much too frightened to let me catch it. With great difficultyI extricated myself and ran to the cookhouse, where I soon enlistedBridget's aid. We got some small pieces of soft raw meat and crawled tothe top of the bank again. After long and tedious coaxing I at lastgrabbed the little thing spitting furiously while Bridget gave it somefood, and in return for my trouble it bit and scratched like a youngdevil! It was terribly hungry and bolted all we had brought. When we gother to the cook-house she ran round the place like a mad thing, andturned out to be rather a fast cat altogether when she grew up. Wetossed for her, Bridget won, and she was duly christened with a drop oftinned milk on her forehead, "Melisande in the Wood. "

The magpie belonged to Russell, and came from Peuplinghe. Magpies aresupposed to be unlucky birds. This one certainly brought no luck to itsdifferent owners. Shortly after its arrival Russell was obliged toreturn to England for good. Before going, however, she presented Jacquesto Captain White at Val de Lièvre. Sure enough after some time he wasposted to the Boche prisoner camp at Marquise--a job he did not relishat all. I don't know if he took Jacques with him, but the place wasbombed shortly after and the Huns killed many of their own men, andpresumably Jacques as well. So he did his bit for France. 

The canaries belonged to Renny--at least at first she had only one. Ithappened in this wise. The man at the disinfector (where we took ourcars and blankets to be syringed after an infectious case), had had acanary given him by his "best girl" (French). He did not want a canaryand had nowhere to keep it, but, as he explained, he did not know enoughof the language to say so, and thought the easiest way out of thedifficulty was to accept it. "Give me the bird, proper, she 'as, " headded. 

The trouble was he did not reckon on her asking after it, which she mostsurely did. He could hardly confess to her that he had passed thepresent on so instead he conveyed the news to her, somehow, that the"pore little bird had gone and died on 'im. " She expressed her horrorand forthwith produced a second!

"Soon 'ave a bloomin' aviary at this rate, " he remarked as he handedthe second one over! No more appeared, however, and the two littlebirds, both presumably dead, twittered and sang merrily the length ofthe "cues. "

As the better weather arrived so our work increased again, and in Marchthe Germans began a retreat in the west along a front of 100 miles. Weworked early and late and reached the point of being able to drivealmost asleep. An extraordinary sensation--you avoid holes, you slip theclutch over bumps, you stop when necessary, and go on ditto, and at thesame time you can be having dreams! More a state of coma than actualsleep, perhaps. I think what happened was one probably slept for aminute and then woke up again to go off once more. 

I became "Wuzzy's" adopted mother about now and, whenever I had time, combed and brushed his silver curls till they stood out like fluff. Hecould spot Susan miles away, and though it was against rules I sometimestook him on board. As we neared camp I told him he must get down, but hewould put on an obstinate expression and deliberately push himselfbehind my back, in between me and the canvas, so that I was almost onthe steering wheel. At other times he would listen to me for awhile, take it all in, and then put his head on my shoulder with such anappealing gesture that I used to risk being spotted, and let him remain. He simply adored coming out if I was going riding, but I disliked havinghim intensely, for he ran about under the horses, nibbling at them andmaking himself a general nuisance. He would watch me through half shuteyes the minute I began polishing my riding boots; and try as I would toevade him he nearly always came in the end. 

He got so crafty in time he would wait for me at the bottom of the driveand dash out from among the shrubs just as I was vanishing. One day wehad trotted some distance along the Sangatte road, and I was justcongratulating myself I had given him the slip, when looking up, therehe was sitting on a grassy knoll just ahead, positively laughing andlicking his chops with self-satisfied glee. I gave it up after that, Ifelt I couldn't cope with him, and yet there were those who called himstupid! I grant you he had his bad days when he was referred to as my"idiot son, " but even then he was only just "peculiar"--a world ofdifference. 

One job we had was termed "lodgers" and consisted of meeting the"sitting" cases from an ambulance train, taking them to the differenthospitals for the night, and then back to the quay early next morning intime to catch the hospital ship to England. The stretcher cases had beenput on board the night before, but there was no sleeping accommodationfor so many "sitters. " An ordinary evacuation often took place as well, so that before breakfast we had sometimes carried as many as thirty-fivesitting cases, and done journeys with twelve stretchers. One day at No. 30 hospital I saw several of the girls beside a stretcher, and there wasthe "Bovril king" lying swathed in blankets, chatting affably! He wasthe cook at No. 30, a genial soul, who always rushed out in the earlyhours of the morning when one was feeling emptiest, with a cup of hotsoup. He called it doing his bit, and always referred to himself proudlyas the "Bovril king. " Alas, he was now being invalided home withbronchitis!

Hope came back from leave and told me she had been pursued half way downRegent Street by a fat old taxi driver who asked after me. It was dearold Stone, of course, now returned to civil life and his smart taxi withthe silver "vauses!" I have hunted the stands in vain for his smilingrosy face, but hope to spot him some day and have my three days' joyride. 

One precious whole afternoon off, a very rare event, I went out for aride with Captain D. He rode "Baby, " a little bay mare, and I rode agrey, a darling, with perfect manners and the "sweetest" mouth in theworld. He was devoted to "Baby, " and wherever she went he went too, assurely as Mary's little lamb. 

We struck off the road on to some grass and after cantering along forsome distance found we were in a network of small canals--the ground wasvery spongy and the canal ahead of us fortunately not as wide as therest. We got over safely, landing in deep mud on the other side, anddecided our best plan was to make for the road again. We espied a houseat the end of the strip we were in with a road beyond, and agreed thatthere must be a bridge or something leading to it. Captain D. Went offat a canter and I saw Baby break into a startled gallop as a trainsteamed up on the line beyond the road. They disappeared behind thehouse and I followed on at a canter. I turned the corner just in time tosee them almost wholly immersed in a wide canal and the gallant Captaincrawling over Baby's head on to the bank! It was one of those deceptivespots where half the water was overgrown with thick weeds and cress, making the place appear as narrow again. 

The grey was of course hot on Baby's track. Seeing her plight Inaturally pulled up, but he resented this strongly and rose straight onhis hind legs. Fearing he would over-balance, I quickly slacked thereins and leant forward on his neck. But it was too late; that slipperymud was no place to try and regain a foothold, and over he came. I justhad time to slip off sideways, promptly lost my foothold and collapsedas well. How I laughed! There was Captain D. On one side of the canalvainly trying to capture his "wee red tourie" floating down stream, andBaby standing by with the mud dripping from her once glossy flanks; andon the other was I, sitting laughing helplessly in the mud, and the grey(now almost brown) softly nosing my cap and eyeing his beloved on thefurther bank with pained surprise!

To crown all, the train, which had come to a standstill, was by theirony of fate full of Scottish soldiers on their way up the line. Such abit of luck in the shape of a free cinema show had rarely come theirway and they were bent on enjoying it to the fullest extent. The factthat the officer now standing ruefully on the bank was in Tartan riding"troos" of course added to the piquancy of the situation. 

The woman had come out of her cottage by this time and kept exclaimingat intervals, "Oh, la-la, Oh, la-la, " probably imagining that thismudbath was only a new pastime of the mad English. She at last was kindenough to open the gate; and thither I led the grey and then across aplank bridge beyond, previously hidden from sight. 

We scraped the mud off the saddles under a running fire of wittycomments from the train. I knew the whole thing had given them so muchenjoyment that I bore them no illwill. I could see their point of viewso well, it must have been such fun to watch! "Hoots, mon, " they calledto the now thoroughly embarrassed D. , as we mounted, "are ye no going tolift the lassie oop?" I was glad we were "oop" and away before the trainstarted again, and as we trotted along the road, cries of "Guid luck toye!" "May ye have a happy death!" (which is a regular north-countrywish, and a very nice one when you come to think of it), followed us. The batman eyed us suspiciously as we reached Fontinettes where he waswaiting for the horses, and remarked that they seemed to have had a "bitroll. " My topcoat I'm glad to say covered all traces of the "bit roll" Ihad indulged in on my own. It was a great ride entirely. 

One night for some reason I was unable to sleep--a rare occurrence--andbethought me of an exciting spy book, called the _German SubmarineBase_, I had begun weeks before but had had no time to finish. All wasdead quiet with the exception of the distant steady boom of the guns, which one of course hardly noticed. I had just got to the most thrillingpart and was holding my breath from sheer excitement when whiz! sob!bang! and a shell went spinning over the huts. For a moment I thought Imust be dreaming or that the book was bewitched. Next minute I was outof bed like a rabbit, and turning off the light, dashed outside just asthe second went over. I naturally looked skyward, but there was not asign of anything and, stranger still, not even the throb of an engine. Athird went over with a loud screech, and my hair was blown into the airby the rushing wind it caused. I saw a flash from the sea and Thompsonsaid she was wakened by my voice calling, "I say, come out and see thisnew stunt. " Soon everyone was up and the shells came on steadily, blowing our hair about, and making the very pebbles rush rattling alongthe ground, hitting against our feet with such force we thought at firstit must be spent shrapnel. Some of those shells screeched and somemiauled like huge cats hurtling through the air to spring on their prey. These latter made a cold shiver run down my spine; the noise they madewas so blood-curdling. One could cope with the ordinary ones, butfrankly, these were beastly. Luckily they only went over about everytenth. It was something quite new getting shells of this calibre fromsuch a short range, and "side-ways, " too, as someone expressed it; quitea different sensation from on top. The noise was deafening; and then onestruck the bank our camp was built on. We had no dug-out and seeminglywere just waiting to be potted at. We got the cars ready in case we werecalled up, and the shells whizzed over all the time. There was anotherexplosion--one had landed in our incinerator! Good business! Another hitthe bank again! Once more the fact of being so near the danger provedour safety, for with these three exceptions, they all passed over intothe town beyond. The smell of powder in the air was so strong it made ussneeze. It was estimated roughly that 300 shells were lobbed into thetown, and all passing over us on the way. 

It was a German destroyer that had somehow got down the coastunchallenged, and was--we heard afterwards--only at a distance of 100yards! What a chance for good shooting on our part; but it was a pitchblack night and somehow she got away in the velvet darkness. Sounds offiring at sea--easily distinguishable from those on land because of the"plop" after them--continued throughout the night and we thought a navalbattle was in progress somewhere; however, it proved to be one of thebombardments of England, according to the papers next day. To our greatdisappointment, our little "drop in the bucket" of 300 odd shells wasnot even mentioned. 

There was much eager scratching in the bank for bits of shells the nextday. One big piece was made into a paper-weight by the old Scotchcarpenter, and another was put on the "narrow escape" shelf among theother bits that had "nearly, but not quite!"

Wild rumours had got round the camps and town that the "lady drivers hadgot it proper, " been "completely wiped out, " in fact not one left aliveto tell the lurid tale. So that wherever we drove the next morning wewere greeted with cheery nods and smiles by everyone. The damage to thetown was considerable, but the loss of life singularly small. The DetailIssue Stores had gone so far as to exchange bets as to whether we wouldappear to draw rations that morning, and as I drove up with Bridget onthe box we were greeted right royally. One often found large oranges inone's tool box, or a bag of nuts, or something of the kind, popped in bya kindly Tommy who would pass the car and merely say: "Don't forget tolook in your tool-box when you get to camp, Miss, " and be gone beforeyou could even thank him! All the choicest "cuts" were also reserved forus by the butcher and we were altogether spoilt pretty generally. 

Tommy is certainly a nailer at what he terms "commandeering. " I was downat the M. T. Yard one day and as I left, was told casually to look in thebox when I got to camp. I did so, and to my horror saw a wonderful footpump--the pneumatic sort. I had visions of being hauled up before aCourt of Enquiry to produce the said pump, which was a brand new one andpainted bright red. On my next job I made a point of going round by theM. T. Yard to return the "present. " I found my obliging friend, who waspained in the extreme at the mere mention of a pump. "Never 'eard ofone, " he affirmed stoutly. "Leastways, " he said reminiscently, lookingat me out of the corner of his eye, "I do seem to remember somethingabout a stawf car bein' in 'ere this morning when yours was"--and hesmiled disarmingly. "Look 'ere, " he continued, "you forget all about it, Miss. I 'ates to see yer puffing at the tyres with them old-fashionedones, and anyway, " with a grin, "that car's in Abbeville now!"

Another little example of similar "commandeering" was when my friend ofthe chopped sticks turned up one day with a small Primus stove: "I 'eardyou was askin' for one, and 'ere it is, " and with that he put it downand fled. After the pump episode I was full of suspicions about littlethings that "turned up" from nowhere, but for a long time I had noopportunity of asking him exactly where the gift had come from. Onenight, however, one of the doctors from the adjacent hut hospital was upin camp, and Primus stoves suddenly cropped up in the conversation. "Most extraordinary thing, " said he, "my batman is as honest as the day, and can't account for the disappearance of my stove at all. No one wentinto my hut, he declares, and yet the stove is gone, and not so much asa sign of it. One thing is I'd know it if I saw it again. " I startedguiltily at this, and got rather pink--"Look here, " I said, "come intomy hut a moment. " He did so. "By Jove! that's my stove right enough, " hecried, "I know the scratches on it. How on earth did you get it?" "ThatI can't tell you, " I replied, "but you can have it back" (graciously), "and look here, it wasn't _your_ batman, so rest easy. " He was too wiseto ask unnecessary questions (one didn't in France), and only toothankful to get his Primus, which he joyfully carried back in state. Itwas a pity about it, because they were impossible to get at that time, and our huts had already been raided for electric kettles. 

Gothas came frequently to visit us at night and terrible scenes tookplace, during which we were ordered out amid the dropping bombs to carrythe injured to hospital, but more often than not to collect the dead, orwhat was left of them. 

One morning I was in great distress, for I lost my purse through thelining of my wolf-coat. It was not the loss of the purse that worriedme, but the fact that I always kept the little medal of the Virgin andChild in there, given me by the old Scotch nun in Paris "forprotection. " "Eva, " I called, "I've lost my luck--that little charm Ihad given me in 1915--I do wish I hadn't. I'm not superstitious in theordinary way, but I kind of believe in that thing;" she only laughedhowever. But I took the trouble to advertise for it in the localpaper--unfortunately with no result. I was very distressed. 

Our concert party got really quite a slap-up show going about this time. We also had a drop scene behind--a huge white linen sheet on which we_appliquéd_ big black butterflies fluttering down to a large sunflowerin the corner, the petals of which were the same yellow as the bobbleson our dresses. We came to the conclusion that something of the sort wasnecessary, for as often as not we had to perform in front ofpuce-coloured curtains that hardly showed us up to the best advantage. 

One of the best shows we ever gave I think was for the M. T. _dépôt_. They did so much for us one way and another repairing cars (not tomention details like the foot pump episode), that we were only too gladto do something for them in return. The _pièce de résistance_ (at least, Dicky and I thought so) was a skit we got up on one of "Lena's" concertparty stars--a ventriloquist stunt. We thought of it quite suddenly andonly had time for one rehearsal before the actual performance. I paid avisit to Corporal Coy of the mortuary (one of the local low comedians, who, like the coffin-cart man at Lamarck, "had a merry eye!" and was arecognized past-master in the art of make-up), and borrowed his littlebowler hat for the occasion. He listened solemnly to the scheme, andinsisted on making me a fascinating little Charlie Chaplin moustache(the requisites for which he kept somewhere in the mortuary with therest of his disguises!) and he then taught me to waggle it with greatskill!

Dicky was the "doll" with round shiny patches of red on her cheeks and aTommy's cap and hospital blue coat. She supplied the glassy stareherself most successfully. For these character stunts we simply put oncaps and coats over our "Fantastik" kit and left the rest to theimagination of the audience who was quick (none quicker) to grasp theimplied suggestion. I was "Mr. Lenard Ashwell" in aforementioned bowler, moustache, and coat. We made up the dialogue partly on the basis of theoriginal performance, and added a lot of local colour. I asked thequestions, and was of course supposed to ventriloquize the answers, and, thanks to the glassy stare of my doll, her replies almost convinced theaudience I was doing so. 

They had all seen the real thing a fortnight before, so that we weregreeted with shouts of laughter as the curtain went up. 

The trouble was, as we had only written the book of words that day itwas rather hard for me to remember them, so I had taken the precautionof safety-pinning them on my doll's back. It was all right for her asshe got the cue from me. It was not difficult, half supporting her as Iappeared to be, to squint behind occasionally for the next jest! On oneof these occasions my incorrigible doll horrified me by winking at theaudience and exclaiming, to their delight, "The bloke's got all thewords on my back!" She then revolved out of my grasp, and spun slowlyround on her stool. This unrehearsed effect quite brought the housedown, and not to be outdone, I raised my small bowler repeatedly inacknowledgment!

I was a little taken aback the next morning when the man at the petrolstores said, "My, but you wos a fair treat as Charlie Chaplin lastnight, Miss. " (It must have been Corporal Coy's moustache that did it, not to mention lifting my bowler from the rear!)

The more local colour you get in a show of that sort the better the menlike it, and we parodied all the latest songs as fast as they came out. Winnie and "Squig" in Unity More's "_Clock strikes Thirteen_" wereextremely popular, especially when they sang with reference to crankingup in the mornings:

 Wind, wind. _Oh_ what a grind! I could weep, I could swear, I could scream, Both my arms ache, and my back seems to break But she'll go when the clock strikes thirteen. 

 Oh, oh (with joy), at last she will go! There's a spark from the bloomin' machine, She's going like fire, when bang goes a tyre And we'll start when the clock strikes thirteen!

The whole programme was as follows:--

 1. The FANTASTIKS announce their shortcomings in chorus of original words to the opening music of the Bing Boys--"We're the FANTASTIKS, and we rise at six and don't get much time to rehearse, so if songs don't go, and the show is slow, well, we hope you'll say it might have been worse, " etc. , etc. 

 2. _Violin_ 1. "Andantino" (Kreisler) } } P. B. WADDELL 2. "Capriccioso" (Drdla) } 3. _Recitation_ Humorous N. F. LOWSON 4. _Chorus Song_ "Piccadilly" FANTASTIKS (in monocles) 5. _Stories_ M. RICHARDSON 6. _China Town_ FANTASTIKS (Sung in the dark with lighted Chinese lanterns, quite professional in effect--at least we hoped so!) 7. _Recitation_ Serious B. HUTCHINSON 8. Mr. Lenard Ashwell and his } { M. RICHARDSON Ventriloquist Doll } { P. B. WADDELL 9. _Duet_ "When the Clock strikes Thirteen" G. QUIN AND W. MORDAUNT 10. _Violin Solo_ "Zigeunerweisen" (Sarasate) P. B. WADDELL 11. _Song_ "Au Revoir" W. MORDAUNT 12. _The Kangaroo Hop_ FANTASTIKS

The chorus wore their goat-coats for this last item, and with animalmasks fixed by elastic, bears, wolves, elephants, etc. , it wasdistinctly realistic. 

When "God save the King" had been sung, and the usual thanks and cheersgiven, and received, the Sergeant-Major from the Canteen (with thebeautiful waxed moustache) rushed forward to say that light refreshmentshad been provided. The "grizzly bears" were only too thankful, as theyhad had no time to snatch even a bun before they left camp. 

CHAPTER XVI

THE LAST RIDE

The hardest job in the Convoy was admittedly that of the big lorry, for, early and late, it was first and last on the field. 

It took all the stretchers and blankets to the different hospitals, cleared up the quay after an early evacuation, brought stretchers andblankets up to the Convoy, took the officers' kits to hospital andboats, and rationed the ambulance trains and barges. "Jimmy" took to theVulcan instinctively when the Convoy was first started and jealouslykept to the job, but after a time she was forcibly removed therefrom inorder to take a rest. I could sympathize--I knew how I had felt aboutthe little lorry. 

The job was to be taken in fortnightly turns, and while the old Vulcanlorry was being overhauled a Wyllis-Overland was sent in its place. 

The disadvantage of the lorry was that you never saw any of yourfriends, for you were always on duty when they were off, and vice versa;also you hardly ever had meals when they did. Eva's fortnight was almostup, and I was hoping to see something of her before I went on leave whenone night in she came with the news that I was the next one forit--hardly a welcome surprise; and down at barges that evening--it was aSunday--Gamwell, the Sergeant, told me officially I was to take on thejob next morning at 5 a. M. 

When I got back to Camp I went for a preliminary run on it, as I hadnever driven that make before. The tyres were solid, all vestige ofsprings had long since departed from the seat and the roof was coveredwith tin that bent and rattled like stage thunder. The gears were in themiddle and very worn, and the lever never lost an opportunity ofslipping into first as you got out, and consequently the lorry tried torun over you when you cranked up! Altogether a charming car. You drovealong like a travelling thunder-clap, and coming up the slope into Campthe earth fairly shook beneath you. I used to feel like the whole ofValhalla arriving in a Wagner Opera! It was also quite impossible tohear what anyone said sitting on the seat beside you. 

The third day, as I got out, I felt all my bones over carefully. "When Icome off this job, " I called to Johnson, "I shall certainly swallow abottle of gum as a wise precaution. " He grinned appreciatively. 

Lowson, who had had her turn before Eva, appropriately christened it"Little Willie, " and I can affirm that that car had a Hun soul. 

You were up and dressed at 5 a. M. And waited about camp till thetelephone bell rang to say the train had arrived. Schofield, theincinerator man who was usually in the camp at that hour, never failedto make a cup of tea--a most welcome thing, for one never got back tocamp to have breakfast till 11 or 11. 30 a. M. I used to spend theinterval, after "Little Willie" was all prepared for the road, combingout Wuzzy's silver curls. He always accompanied the lorry and wasallowed to sit, or rather jolt, on the seat beside me, unrebuked. Afterbreakfast there was the quay to clear up and all the many other detailsto attend to, getting back to camp about 3 to go off in an hour's timeto barges. When a Fontinettes ambulance train came down, the lorrydriver was lucky if she got to bed this side of 2 a. M. 

All social engagements in the way of rides, etc. , had to be cancelled inconsequence, but the Monday before I went into hospital the grey andBaby appeared up in camp about 5. 30. I was hanging about waiting for thetelephone to say the barge had arrived, but as there was a high windblowing it was considered very unlikely it would come down the canalthat evening. I 'phoned to a station several miles up to enquire if itwas in sight, and the reply came back "Not a sign, " and I accordinglygot permission to go out for half an hour. I was so afraid Captain D. Might not consider it worth while and could have almost wept, butfortunately he agreed half an hour was better than nothing, and off wewent up the sands, leaving the bob-tailed Wuzzy well in the rear. What aglorious gallop that was--my last ride! The sands appeared almostgolden in the sun and the wind was whipping the deep blue waves intolittle crests of foam against the paler turquoise of the sky. Alreadythe flowers on the dunes had burst into leaf, for it was the "merriemonth of May, " and there, away on the horizon, the white cliffs ofEngland could just be discerned. Altogether it was good to be alive. "Hurrah, " I cried, as we slowed down to a walk, "five more days and thenon leave to England!" and I rubbed the grey's neck with joy. Alas! thathalf hour flew like ten minutes and we turned all too soon and racedback, thudding along over the glorious sands as we went. 

I got to the Convoy to find there was no news of the barge, but I had todismount all the same--duty is duty--and I kissed the grey's nose, little thinking I should never see him again. The barge did not comedown till 9 o'clock the next morning. _C'est la guerre_--and a _very_trying one to boot!

The weather was ideal just then: warm and sunny and not a cloud in thesky except for those little round white puffs where the Archie shellsburst round the visiting Huns. 

One afternoon about 5 o'clock, when breakfast had been at lunch time andconsequently that latter meal had been _n'apoo'd_ altogether, I wentinto the E. M. O. 's for the chits before leaving for camp. (These initialsstood for "Embarkation Medical Officer" and always designated the officeand shed where the blankets and stretchers were kept; also, incidentally, the place where the Corporal and two men slept. ) As Ientered a most appetising odour greeted my nostrils and I suddenlyrealized how very hungry I was. I sniffed the air and wondered what itcould be. 

"Just goin' to have a cockle tea, " explained the Corporal. "I suppose, Miss, you wouldn't care to join us?" I knew the brew at the Convoy wouldbe long since cold, and accepted the invitation joyfully. 

Their "dining-room" was but the shed where the stretchers were piled up, many of them brown and discoloured by blood, and bundles of fusty armyblankets, used as coverings for the wounded, reached almost to theceiling. They were like the stretchers in some cases, and always stickyto the touch. I could not repress a shudder as I turned away to the muchmore welcome sight of tea. A newspaper was spread on the rough table inmy honour and Wheatley was despatched "at the double" to find the onlysaucer! (Those who knew the good Wheatley will perhaps fail to imaginehe could attain such a speed--dear Wheatley, with his long spindle legsand quaint serio-comic face. He was a man of few words and a heart ofgold. )

I look back on that "cockle tea" as one of my happiest memories. It wasso jolly and we were all so gay and full of hope, for things were goingwell up the line. 

I had never tasted cockles before and thought they were priceless. Wediscussed all manner of things during tea and I learnt a lot about theiraspirations for _après la guerre_. It was singular to think that withina short month, of that happy party Headley the Corporal alone remainedsound and whole. One was killed by a shell falling on the E. M. O. One wasin hospital crippled for life, and the third was brought in while I wasthere and died shortly after from septic pneumonia. Little did we thinkwhat was in store as we drank tea so merrily!

Wheatley insisted on putting a bass bag full of cockles into the lorrybefore I left, and when I got to camp I ran to the cook-house thinkinghow they would welcome a variation for supper. 

"Cockles?" asked Bridget. "Humph, I suppose you know they grow on sewersand people who eat them die of ptomaine poisoning?" "No, " I said, not atall crestfallen, "do they really, well I've just eaten a whole bag full!If they give me a military funeral I do hope you'll come, " and Ideparted, feeling rather hurt, to issue further invitations. 

I was drawing petrol at the Stores the next day and as I was signing forit the man there (my Charlie Chaplin friend) kindly began to crank up. 

As he did so I saw Little Willie move gently forward, and ran out toslip the gear back into "neutral. "

"It's a Hun and called 'Little Willie, '" I explained as I did so. 

"Crikey, wot a car, " he observed, "no wonder you calls it that. Don'tyou let him put it acrosst you, Miss. "

"He's only four more days to do it in, " I thought joyfully, as I rattledoff to the Quay, and yet somehow a premonition of some evil thing aboutto happen hung over me, and again I wished I hadn't lost my charm. 

The next day was Wednesday, and I had been up since 5 and was taking alorry-full of stretchers and blankets past a French Battery to theE. M. O. 's. It was about midday and there was not a cloud in the sky. Thensuddenly my heart stood still. Somehow, instinctively, I knew I was "forit" at last. Whole eternities seemed to elapse before the crash. Therewas no escape. Could I urge Little Willie on? I knew it was hopeless;even as I did so he bucketed and failed to respond. He would! How Ilonged for Susan, who could always be relied upon to sprint forward. Atlast the crash came. I felt myself being hurled from the car into theair, to fall and be swept along for some distance, my face beingliterally rubbed in the ground. I remember my rage at this, and even inthat extreme moment managed to seize my nose in the hope that it atleast might not be broken! Presently I was left lying in a crumpled heapon the ground. My first thought, oddly enough, was for the car, which Isaw standing sulkily and somewhat battered not far off. "There _will_ bea row, " I thought. The stretcher bearer in behind had been killedinstantaneously, but fortunately I did not know of this till some timelater, nor did I even know he had jumped in behind. The car rattled tosuch an extent I had not heard the answer to my query, if anyone wascoming with me to unload the stretchers. 

I tried to move and found it impossible. "What a mess I'm in, " was mynext thought, "and how my legs ache!" I tried to move them too, but itwas no good. "They must both be broken, " I concluded. I put my hand tomy head and brought it away all sticky. "That's funny, " I thought, "where can it have come from?" and then I caught sight of my hand. Itwas all covered with blood. I began to have a panic that my back mightbe injured and I would not be able to ride again. That was all thatreally worried me. I had always dreaded anything happening to my back, somehow. 

The French soldiers were down from their Battery in a trice, all greatfriends of mine to whom I had often thrown ration cigarettes. 

Gaspard (that was not his name, I never knew it, but always called himthat in my own mind after Raymond's hero) gave a cry and was on theground beside me, calling me his "little cabbage, " his "poor littlepigeon, " and presently he half lifted me in his arms and cradled me ashe might a baby. I remained quite conscious the whole time. "Will I beable to ride again?" kept hammering through my brain. The pain wasbecoming rapidly worse and I began to wonder just where my legs werebroken. As I could move neither I could not discover at all, andpresently I gave a gasp as I felt something tighten and hurt terribly. It was a boot lace they were fixing to stop the hæmorrhage (bootlacesare used for everything in France). The men stood round, and I watchedthem furtively wiping the tears away that rolled down their furrowedcheeks. One even put his arm over his eyes as a child does. I wonderedvaguely why they were crying; it never dawned on me it had anything todo with _me_. "Complètement coupée, " I heard one say, and quick as ashot, I asked, "Où est-ce que c'est qu'est coupé?" and those tactfulsouls, just rough soldiers, replied without hesitation, "La jaquette, Mademoiselle. "

"Je m'en fiche de la jaquette, " I answered, completely reassured. 

I wished the ambulance would come soon. "I _am_ in a beastly mess, " Ithought again. "Fancy broken legs hurting like this. What must the mengo through!"

It was singular I was so certain they were broken. But a month before Ihad received a wire from the War Office stating one of my brothers hadcrashed 1, 000 feet and had two legs fractured, and without more ado Itook it for granted I was in a similar plight. "I won't sit up andlook, " I decided, "or I shall think I'm worse than I am. There's sure tobe some blood about, " and the sun beat down fiercely, drying what therewas on my face into hard cakes. My lower lip had also been cut insidesomehow. One man took off his coat and held it high up to form a shade. I saw everything that happened with a terrible distinctness. They hadalready bound up my head, which was cut and bleeding profusely. 

The pain was becoming almost intolerable and I wondered if in time Iwould cry, but luckily one does not cry on those occasions; it becomesan impossibility somehow. I even began to wish I could. I asked to havemy legs lifted a little and the pain seemed to ease somewhat. I shallnever forget those Frenchmen. They were perfect. How often I had smiledat them as I passed, and laughed to see them standing in a ring likenaughty schoolboys, peeling potatoes, their Sergeant walking round tosee that it was done properly!

The little French doctor from the Battery, who had once helped me changea tyre, came running up and I covered the scratched side of my face lesthe should get too much of a shock. "Je suis joliment dans la soupe, " Isaid, and saw him go as white as a sheet. "These Frenchmen are verysympathetic, " I thought, for it had dawned on me what they were cryingabout by that time. 

Just then an ambulance train came down the line and the two Englishdoctors were fetched. A tourniquet which seemed like a knife, and hurtterribly, was applied as well as the bootlace. I was also given somemorphia. "This will hurt a little, " he said as he pushed in the needle, which I thought distinctly humorous. As if a prick from a hypodermiccould be anything in comparison with what was going on "down there"where I hadn't courage to look! His remark had one good effect though, because I thought: "If he thinks _that_ will hurt there can't be much tofuss over down there. "

Would the ambulance never arrive? I wondered if we were always solong--which F. A. N. Y. Would come? "She's cranked up by now and on theway, probably as far as the bridge, " I thought. I drove all the way downin my own mind and yet she did not arrive, but they had 'phoned to theFrench hospital in the town and not the Convoy. I did not know this tillI saw the French car arrive. 

It seemed an age. Gaspard never moved once from his cramped position andkept saying soothingly from time to time: "Allons, p'tit chou, monpauvre petit pigeon, ça viendra tout à l'heure, hé la petite. "

At last the ambulance came. I dreaded being lifted, but those soldiersraised me so tenderly the wrench was not half as bad as I hadanticipated. I had been there just over forty minutes. Then began thejourney in the ambulance. The men gave me a fine salute as I was takenoff and I waved good-bye. One of the Sisters from the train came in thecar with me and also the little French doctor whose hand I hung on tomost of the way, and which incidentally must have been like pulp when wearrived. 

As luck would have it the driver was a new man, and neither the doctornor the sister knew the way, so I had to give the directions. The doctorwas all for taking me to the French military hospital, but I asked tobe taken to the Casino. 

"So this is what the men go through every day, " I thought, as we wereinto a hole and out again with a bump and the pain became almost toomuch to bear. The doctor swore at the driver, and I took another grip ofhis hand. "Bien difficile de ne pas faire ça, " I murmured, for I knew hehad really manoeuvred it well. The constant give of the springsjiggling endlessly up and down, up and down, was as trying as anything. The trouble was I knew every hole in that road and soon we had to crossrailway lines! The sister, who was a stranger too, began to worry howshe would find her way back to the train, but I assured her once arrivedat the Casino, she only had to walk up to our camp to get a F. A. N. Y. Car. "I hope there won't be many people there when I'm pulled out, " Ithought, "I hate being stared at in such a beastly mess, " above all Ihated a fuss. 

Now we had come to the railway lines. "What would it have been likewithout morphia?" I wondered. Of course the drawbridge was up and thatmeant at least ten minutes wait till the ships went through. My luckseemed dead out. At last I heard the familiar clang as it rattled intoplace, and we were over. 

I dared not close my eyes, as I had a sort of feeling I'd never be ableto open them again. "Only up the slope and then I'm there. If I can'tkeep them open till then, I'm done. " The pain was getting worse again, and from what the sister said I gathered something down there had begunto hæmorrhage once more. Still no thought of the truth ever dawned onme. 

At last we arrived and slowly backed into place. I could not help seeingthe grim humour of the situation; I had driven so many wounded men theremyself. The Colonel, who must have heard, for he was waiting, lookedvery white and worried, and Leather, one of the Duchess' drivers, started visibly as I was pulled out. I was told after that mycomplexion, or what could be seen of it, was ashen grey in colour and ifmy eyes had not been open they would have thought the worst. I wascarried into the big hall and there my beloved Wuzzy found me. I heard alittle whine and felt a warm tongue licking my face--luckily he had notbeen with me that morning. 

"Take that ---- dog away, someone, " cried the Colonel, who was peevishin the extreme. "He's not a ---- dog, " I protested, and then up came aPadre who asked gravely, "What are you, my child?" Thinking I was nowfairly unrecognisable by this time with the Frenchman's hanky round myhead, etc. , I replied, "A F. A. N. Y. , of course!" This completelyscandalized the good Padre. When he had recovered, he said, "No, youmistake me, what religion I mean?"

"He wants to know what to bury me under, " I thought, "what a thoroughlycheerful soul!" "C. Of E. , " I replied as per identity disc. He then tookmy home address, which seemed an unnecessary fuss, and I was left inpeace. Captain C. Was there as well and came over to the stretcher. 

"I've broken both legs, " I announced, "will I be able to ride again?"

"Of course you will, " he said. 

"Sure?" I asked. 

"Rather, " he replied, and I felt comforted. 

I was then carried straight through ward I. Into the operating theatre. The men in bed looked rather startled, and Barratt, a man I had drivenand been visiting since, was near the door. What he said is hardlyrepeatable. When the British Tommy is much moved he usually becomesthoroughly profane! I waved to him as I disappeared through the doorinto the theatre. 

I was speedily undressed. Dicky appeared mysteriously from somewhere andwas a brick. The room seemed to be full of nurses and orderlies and thenI went slipping off into oblivion as the chloroform took effect (myfirst dose and at that time very welcome) and at last I was in a landwhere pain becomes obliterated in one vast empty space. 

 * * * * *

I woke that afternoon and of course wondered where I was. Everythingseemed to be aching and throbbing at once. I tried to move, but I feltas if I was clamped to the bed. "This is terrible, " I thought, "I mustbe having a nightmare. " Then I saw the cradle covering my legs. "Whatcould it be?" I wondered, and then in a flash the scenes of that morning(or was it a week ago?) came back to me. I wondered if my back was allright and felt carefully down the side. No, there was no bandage, and Isighed with relief, though it ached like fury. I could feel the top ofthe wooden splints on the one leg but nothing but bandages on the other. 

My head had been sewn up, also my lip, and a nice tight bandage replacedthe hanky. 

It was thumping wildly and presently an unseen figure gave me somethingvery cool to sip out of a feeding mug. Things straightened out a bitafter that, and I saw there were quantities of flowers in the room, jugfuls in fact, which had been sent to cheer me along. Then somethingin my leg, the one that was hurting most, gave a fearful tug and a jumpand I drew in my breath with a sobbing gasp. What could it be? It feltjust as if someone had tugged it on purpose, and it took ages to settledown again. I looked mutely at my nurse for an explanation, and she puta cool hand on mine. 

It was the severed nerve, and I learnt to dread those involuntary jumpsthat came so suddenly from nowhere and seized one like a deadly cramp. 

Everything, including my back, was one vast ache punctuated by thoseappalling nerve jumps that set every other one in my body tingling. 

How I longed to turn on my side, but that was a luxury denied me forweeks. 

My friend Eva had heard the cheerful news when she returned fromBoulogne, where she had been all day, and she and Lowson were allowed tocome and see me for a few minutes. 

"I've broken both legs, " I stated. "Isn't it the limit? They don't halfhurt. " They nodded sympathetically, not daring to give me a hint of thereal state of affairs. 

"Captain C. Says I'll be able to ride again though, " I added, and oncemore they nodded. 

"I told you what would happen when I lost that charm, " I said to Eva. 

I asked after "Little Willie, " and heard his remains had been towed tocamp, though being a Hun he would of course manage to escape somehow!

I had an adorable V. A. D. To look after me. The best I ever want to have. She seemed to know exactly what I wanted without being told. I feltalmost too tired to speak, and in any case it's not easy with stitchesin your mouth. 

The Padre, not my friend of the entrance hall I was glad to note, cameto see me and I had a Communion Service all to myself, as they thought Imight possibly die in the night. 

I dreaded the nights as I'd dreaded nothing before in my life; withdarkness everything seemed to become intensified. Whenever I did manageto snatch a few moments' sleep the dreadful demon that seemed to lurksomewhere just out of sight would pop up and jerk my leg again. I wouldthink to myself "Now I will really catch him next time, " and I would liewaiting in readiness, but just as I thought I was safe, jerk! and my legwould jump worse than ever. I clenched my fists in rage, and the V. A. D. Came from behind the screen to smooth the pillows for me. I used to lieand think of all the thousands of men in hospital and perhaps even lyinguntended in No-man's-land going through twice as much as I, and wonderedif the world would really be any the better for all this suffering or ifit would be forgotten as soon as the war was over. It seemed to berather a waste if it was to be so. 

When morning came there were the dressings to be done. At 10 o'clock Iused to try and imagine it was really 11, and all over, but the rattleof the trolley and terribly cheerful voice of Sister left room for noillusions on that score. My hands were useful on these occasions, and atthe end of the half hour were excellent examples of the shape of myteeth! They were practically the only parts completely uninjured, and Iknew that whatever happened I could still play the violin again. 

I could not understand why one leg had jumping nerves and the otherapparently had none and argued that the one must be half-broken toaccount for it. The B. E. F. Specialist also paid frequent visits. 

Then one evening, the third or fourth I think, Captain C. Came in andsat down in the shadow, looking very grave. 

I think it must have been one of the worst half-hours he ever spent. Itis not a job any man would relish to tell someone who is particularlyfond of life that they have lost one leg and the other has only justbeen saved! I was speechless for some minutes; in fact I refused tobelieve it. It took a long time for the full horror of the situation todawn on me. It will seem odd that I did not feel I had lost my leg, butone never has that sensation even when on crutches; the nerves areunfortunately too much alive. 

Captain C. Stayed a long time and the evening drew on but still he satthere and talked to me quietly in the darkness. I wondered why Icouldn't cry, but somehow it seemed to have nothing to do with me atall. I was not the girl who had lost a leg. It was merely someone else Iwas hearing about. "Jolly bad luck on them, " I thought, "rotten not tobe able to run about any more. "

Then my leg jumped and it began to dawn on me that I was the girl towhom those things had happened. Still, I could not cry. Useless to urgehow lucky it was my knee had just been saved. What use was a knee, Ithought bitterly, if I could never fly round again! When was the verysoonest I could get about with one of these artificial legs, I asked, and he swore to me that if all went well, in a year's time. A year! Ihad fancied the autumn at latest. Little did I know it would be evenlonger. That night was the worst I'd had. It is a useless occupation tokick against the pricks anyway, and the hours dragged slowly on tillmorning came at last. When it was light enough I looked round, as wellas I could at least, lying flat on my back, for something to distract mythoughts. Seeing a _Pearson's Magazine_ with George Robey on the cover, I drew it towards me and saw there was an article by him inside. Quitesure that "George" would cheer me up if anyone could I turned the pagesand found it. It not only cheered me but gave me the first real ray ofhope. There in print was all Captain C. Had told me the night before, and somehow, to see a thing in print is doubly convincing. It was ondisabled soldiers and the pluck with which they bore their misfortunes. 

There was one story of two of his friends who walked into hisdressing-room one day. After dancing about the place they told him theywere out of the army. 

"I don't see much wrong with you, " said G. , eyeing them up and down. They then whacked their legs soundly and never flinched once, for theyeach had an artificial one! I blessed George from the bottom of myheart. Someone told him this, and he promptly sat down and wrote to me, enclosing several signed postcards and a drawing of himself at the endof the letter--his own impression of what he looked like in thepre-historic scene in _Zigzag_--and a promise of a box for the show assoon as I got to Blighty. Some jolly good fellow!

The countless flowers I received were one of the chief joys. I simplyadored lying and looking at them. 

Every single person I knew seemed to have remembered me, and boxes ofchocolates filled my shelf as well. 

The Parc d'Automobiles Belges sent such a huge _gerbe_ that two men hadto carry it, and, emblazoned on a broad ribbon of the Belgian colours, spanning the whole thing, was my name and an inscription in letters ofgold! Captain Saxon Davies, from the "Christol" in Boulogne, had fruitsent over in the boat from Covent Garden delivered at the hospital everymorning by motor cycle. I felt quite overwhelmed; everyone seemeddetermined to spoil me. 

One day the Padre had come in to see me and was just concluding a prayerwhen there was a tap, and the door opened on the instant. A largebottle, the size of a magnum, was pushed in by an orderly, who, seeingthe Padre, departed in haste. (I was squinting up through my eyelashesand saw it all and just pulled myself together in time to say "Amen. ")

I knew who had sent it and hastened to explain: "It's not champagne, Padre, it's Eau de Cologne!" That surprising sportsman replied: "Isn'tit? Bad luck. Have you a scent spray? No? Well, I'll get you one!" (SomePadre!)

On the Sunday one of my people came over, thanks to the cheery telegramsthe War Office had been dispatching. It seemed an unnecessary fuss--theColonel, too, showed distinct signs of "needle"--but it was a dearlittle Aunt who is never flustered by anything and who greeted me as ifwe had parted only yesterday. The word "leg" was not included in herdictionary at all. One is apt to be a bit touchy at first about theselittle things, and though I had seen the most terrible wounds in ourhospital, amputations had always rattled me thoroughly. 

The little Aunt subsequently entertained the austere A. P. M. , while herpapers were being put in order, with most interesting details of mychildhood and how she had brought me up from a baby! The whole interviewwas described to me as "utterly priceless, " by the F. A. N. Y. Who hadtaken her there. 

The French Battery sent daily to enquire and presently I was allowedvisitors. I began to realize after a while that in losing a leg you findout exactly who your real friends are. There are those whom I shallnever forget who came day after day to read or talk to me--friends whopaid no attention when the leg gave one of its violent jerks, but wenton talking as if nothing had happened, a fact that helped me to bear itmore than all the expressed sympathy in the world. The type who says"Whatever was that? How dreadful!" fortunately never came. It was onlydue to those real friends that I was saved from slipping into a sloughof despond from which I might never have hoped to rise. Eva gave uprides and tennis in order to come down every day, and considering thelittle time there was to devote to these pastimes I appreciated it allthe more. 

To say I was the best posted person in the place is no exaggeration. Ipositively heard both sides of every question (top and bottom as wellsometimes) and did my best to make as little scandal as possible!

I was in a room off the "Grand Circle" of the one-time Casino, anofficers' ward. One night the Sister had left me for a moment and Icould have sworn I saw three Germans enter. I thought they said to methat they had come to hide and if I gave them away they would hit myleg. The mere suggestion left me dumb and I distinctly seemed to seethem getting under the two other empty beds in the room. 

After a few minutes it dawned on me what a traitor I was, and bit by bitI eased myself up on my elbows. "I must go and tell someone theseGermans are here, " I thought, and turned back the clothes. Afterthrowing the small sand bags on the floor that kept my bad leg inposition, I next seized the cradle and pitched that overboard. I thencarefully lifted first one leg round and then the other and sat swayingon the side of the bed. The splints naturally jutted out some distancefrom the end of my one leg and this struck me as being very funny. Iwondered just how I could walk on them. Then I looked down at the otherand the proposition seemed funnier still; though I could feel as if theleg was there, when I looked there was nothing. It was really extremelyodd! I sat there for some time cogitating these matters and was justabout to try how I could walk when very luckily in came an orderly. 

"Germans!" I gasped, pointing to the two beds. I must have looked alittle odd sitting swaying there in a very inadequate "helpless" shirtbelonging to the hospital! With a muttered exclamation he rushed forwardjust catching me in his arms, and I was back in bed in a twinkling. Thewhole thing was so clear to me; even now I can fancy I really saw thoseGermans, and the adorable V. A. D. , after searching under the beds at myrequest, sat with me for the rest of the night. My "good" leg was tiedsecurely down after that episode. 

I was dead and buried (by report) several times that first week inhospital and Sergeant Richardson from the Detail Issue Stores, who sawwe always had the best rations, came up to see me one afternoon. He wasso spick and span I hardly recognized him, and in his hand was a largebasket of strawberries. The very first basket that had appeared in thefruiterers' that year. He sat down and told me how anxious "the boys"were to hear how I really was. All sorts of exaggerated rumours had beenflying about. 

He related how he had first heard the news on that fatal Wednesday andhow "a bloke" told him I had been killed outright. "I knocked 'im down, "said the Sergeant with pride, "and when he comes to me the next morningto tell to me you wos still alive, why, I was so pleased I knocked 'imdown again!"

Bad luck on the "bloke, " what? I was convulsed, only the trouble was ithurt me even to laugh, which was trying. 

He had been out in Canada before the war as a cowboy and had alwayspromised to show me some day how to pick things off the ground whengalloping, a pastime we agreed I should now have to forgo. I assured himif I couldn't do that, however, I had every intention of riding again. Had I not heard that morning of someone who even hunted! I began toappreciate the fact that I had my knee. 

CHAPTER XVII

HOSPITALS: FRANCE AND ENGLAND

An old Frenchman came to the hospital every day with the English papers, and looked in to leave me the _Mirror_, for which he would never acceptany payment. He had very few teeth and talked in an indistinct sort ofpatois and insisted on holding long conversations in consequence! Hetold me he would be _enchanté_ to bring me some novels _bien choisis parma femme_ (well chosen by my wife) one day, and in due course theyarrived--the 1 franc 25 edition. 

The names in most cases were enough, and the pictures in some a littlemore! If they were his wife's idea of suitable books for _jeunes filles_I wondered vaguely with what exactly the grown-ups diverted themselves!I had not the heart to tell him I never read them. 

All the French people were extraordinarily kind and often came in to seeme. They never failed to bring a present of some sort either. Mademoiselle Marguerite, the dear fat old lady who kept the flower shopin the Rue, always brought some of her flowers, and looking round woulddeclare that I was trying to run an opposition to her! Madame from the_Pharmacie_ came with a large bottle of scent, the little dressmakerbrought some lace. Monsieur and Madame from the "Omelette Shop" (apopular resort of the F. A. N. Y. S) arrived very hot and smart one Sundayafternoon. Monsieur, who was fat, with large rolls at the back of hisneck, was rather ill at ease and a little panting from the walkupstairs. He had the air of a man trying to appear as if he weresomewhere else. He tiptoed carefully to the window and had a look at the_plage_. "The bonhomme wished to come and assure himself which of the_demoiselles anglaises_ it was, to whom had arrived so terrible athing, " said Madame, "but me, I knew. Is it not so, Henri?" she cried toher husband. "I said it was this one there, " and she pointedtriumphantly to me. As they were going he produced a large bottle ofBurgundy from a voluminous pocket in his coat tails. "Ha! _lebonhomme!_" cried the incorrigible wife, "he would first see whichdemoiselle it was before he presented the bottle!" Hubby appeared to beslightly discomfited at this and beat a hasty retreat. 

And one day "Alice, " whose baby I had doctored, arrived, and even she, difficult as she found it to make both ends meet, had not come withoutsomething. As she left she produced a little packet of lace wrapped innewspaper, which she deposited on my bed with tears in her eyes. 

I used to lie awake at nights and wonder about those artificial legs, just what they were like, and how much one would be able to cope withthem. It was a great pastime! Now that I really know what they _are_like it seems particularly humorous that I thought one would even sleepin them. My great idea was to have the whole thing clamped on and keepit there, and not tell anyone about it! Little did I know then what arelief it is to get them off. One can only comfort oneself on theseoccasions with the ancient jest that it is "the first seven years thatare the worst!"

It is surprising how the illusions about artificial legs get knocked onthe head one by one. I discussed it with someone at Roehampton later. Ithought at least I should have jointed toes! An enterprising French firmsent me a booklet about them one day. That really did bring things hometo me and I cried for the first time. 

My visitors varied in the social scale from French guttersnipes(Jean-Marie, who had been wont to have my old boots, etc. ), tobrigadier-generals. One afternoon Corporal Coy dropped in to enquire howI was. As he remarked cheerfully, "It would have fair turned me up if_you'd_ come round to the mortuary, miss!"

He then settled himself comfortably in the armchair and proceeded toentertain me. I only wished it didn't hurt so much to laugh. I asked himif he had any new songs, and he accordingly gave me a selection _sottovoce_. He would stop occasionally and say, "Noa, I can't sing you thatverse, it's too bad, aye, but it's a pity!" and shaking his headmournfully he would proceed with the next!

He was just in the middle of another when the door opened suddenly andSir A---- S---- (Inspector-General of Medical Services) was ushered inby the Colonel. (The little corporal positively faded out of existence!)I might add he was nearly if not quite as entertaining. 

"Nobby" Clark, a scion of the Labour Battalion, was another visitor whocalled one afternoon, and I got permission for him to come up. He wasone of the local comedians and quite as good as any professional. Iwould have gone miles to hear him. His famous monologue with hisimaginary friend "Linchpin" invariably brought the house down. He wasbroad Lancashire and I had had a great idea of taking him off at one ofthe FANTASTIK Concerts some time, but unfortunately, it was not to be. He came tiptoeing in. "I thought I might take the liberty of coming toenquire after you, " he said, twisting his cap at the bottom of my bed (Ihad learnt by this time to keep both hands hidden from sight as a heartyshake is a jarring event). I asked him to sit down. "Bein' as you mightsay fellow artistes; 'aving appeared so often on the same platform, Ihad to come, " he said affably! "I promised 'the boys' (old labour men ofabout fifty and sixty years) I'd try and get a glimpse of you, " hecontinued, and he sat there and told me all the funny things he couldthink of, or rather, they merely bubbled forth naturally. 

The weather--it was June then--got fearfully hot, and I found lifeirksome to a degree, lying flat on my back unable to move, gazing at thewonderful glass candelabra hanging from the middle of the ceiling. How Iwished each little crystal could tell me a story of what had happened inthis room where fortunes had been lost and won! It would have passed thetime at least. 

A friend had a periscope made for me, a most ingenious affair, throughwhich I was able to see people walking on the sands, and above allhorses being taken out for exercise in the mornings. 

The first W. A. A. C. S came out to France about this time, and I watchedthem with interest through my periscope. I heard that a sand-baggeddug-out had also been made for us in camp, and tin hats handed out; awise precaution in view of the bricks and shrapnel that rattled aboutwhen we went out during air raids. I never saw the dug-out of course. Wehad a mild air-raid one night, but no damage was done. 

My faithful friends kept me well posted with all the news, and I oftenwonder on looking back if it had not been for them how ever I could haveborne life. The leg still jumped when I least expected it, and of courseI was never out of actual pain for a minute. 

One day, it was June then, the dressings were done at least an hourearlier than usual, and the Colonel came in full of importance andordered the other two beds to be taken out of the ward. The Sistercould get nothing out of him for a long time. All he would say was thatthe French Governor-General was going to give me the freedom of thecity! She knew he was only ragging and got slightly exasperated. Atlast, as a great secret, he whispered to me that I was going to bedecorated with the French _Croix de Guerre_ and silver star. I wasdumbfounded for some minutes, and then concluded it was another joke andpaid no more attention. But the room was being rapidly cleared and I wasmore and more puzzled. He arranged the vases of flowers where he thoughtthey showed to the best advantage, and seemed altogether in extremelygood form. 

At last he became serious and assured us that what he had said wasperfectly true. The mere thought of such an event happening made me feelquite sick and faint, it was so overwhelming. 

The Colonel offered to bet me a box of chocolates the General wouldembrace me, as is the custom in France on these occasions, and thesuggestion only added to my fright!

About 11 o'clock as he had said, General Ditte, the governor of thetown, was announced, and in he marched, followed by his twoaides-de-camp in full regalia, the English Base Commandant and StaffCaptain, the Colonel of the hospital, the Belgian General and his twoaides-de-camp, as well as some French naval officers and attachés. Boss, Eva, and the Sister were the only women present. The little room seemedfull to overflowing, and I wondered if at the supreme moment I wouldfaint or weep or be sick, or do something similarly foolish. The Generalhimself was so moved, however, while he read the "citation, " and so wereall the rest, that that fact alone seemed to lend me courage. He turnedhalf way through to one of the aides-de-camp, who fumbled about (likethe best man at a wedding for the ring!) and finally, from his lastpocket, produced the little green case containing the _Croix de Guerre_. 

The supreme moment had arrived. The General's fingers trembled as helifted the medal from its case and walked forward to pin it on me. Instead of wearing the usual "helpless" shirt, I had been put into someof the afore-mentioned Paris frillies for the great occasion, andsuddenly I saw two long skewer-like prongs, like foreign medals alwayshave, bearing slowly down upon me! "Heavens, " I thought, "I shall beharpooned for a certainty!" Obviously the rest of the room thought sotoo, and they all waited expectantly. It was a tense moment--somethinghad to be done and done quickly. An inspiration came to me. Just in thenick of time I seized an unembroidered bit firmly between the finger andthumb of both hands and held it a safe distance from me for the medal tobe fixed; the situation was saved. A sigh of relief (or was itdisappointment?) went up as the General returned to finish the citation, and contrary to expectation he had not kissed me! He confided to someonelater I looked so white he was afraid I might faint. (It was a pityabout that box of chocolates, I felt!)

Two large tears rolled down his cheeks as he finished, and then cameforward to shake hands; after that they all followed suit and I held onto the bed with the other, for in the fullness of their hearts they gavea jolly good shake!

I was tremendously proud of my medal--a plain cross of bronze, withcrossed swords behind, made from captured enemy guns, with the silverstar glittering on the green and red ribbon above. It all seemed like adream, I could not imagine it really belonged to me. 

I was at the Casino nearly two months before I was sent to England in ahospital ship. It was a very sad day for me when I had to say goodbye tomy many friends. Johnson and Marshall, the two mechanics, came up theday before to bid goodbye, the former bringing a wonderful paper knifethat he had been engaged in making for weeks past. A F. A. N. Y button wasat the end of the handle, and the blade and rivets were composed ofEnglish, French, and Boche shells, and last, but by no means least, hehad "sweated" on a ring from one of Susan's plugs! That pleased me morethan anything else could have done, and I treasure that paper knifeamong my choicest souvenirs. Nearly all the F. A. N. Y. S came down thenight before I left, and I felt I'd have given all I possessed to staywith them, in spite of the hard work and discomfort, so aptly describedin a parody of one of Rudyard Kipling's poems:

THE F. A. N. Y. 

 I wish my mother could see me now with a grease-gun under my car, Filling my differential, ere I start for the camp afar, Atop of a sheet of frozen iron, in cold that'd make you cry. "Why do we do it?" you ask. "Why? We're the F. A. N. Y. " I used to be in Society--once; Danced, hunted, and flirted--once; Had white hands and complexion--once: Now I'm an F. A. N. Y. 

 That is what we are known as, that is what you must call, If you want "Officers' Luggage, " "Sisters, " "Patients" an' all, "Details for Burial Duty, " "Hospital Stores" or "Supply, " Ring up the ambulance convoy, "Turn out the F. A. N. Y. " They used to say we were idling--once; Joy-riding round the battle-field--once; Wasting petrol and carbide--once: Now we're the F. A. N. Y. 

 That is what we are known as; we are the children to blame, For begging the loan of a spare wheel, and fitting a car to the same; We don't even look at a workshop, but the Sergeant comes up with a sigh: "It's no use denyin' 'em _nothin_'! Give it the F. A. N. Y. " We used to fancy an air raid--once; Called it a bit of excitement--once; Prided ourselves on our tin-hats once: Now we're the F. A. N. Y. 

 That is what we are known as; we are the girls who have been Over three years at the business; felt it, smelt it and seen. Remarkably quick to the dug-out now, when the Archies rake the sky; Till they want to collect the wounded, then it's "Out with the F. A. N. Y. " "Crank! crank! you Fannies; Stand to your 'buses again; Snatch up the stretchers and blankets, Down to the barge through the rain. " Up go the 'planes in the dawning; 'Phone up the cars to "Stand by. " There's many a job with the wounded: "Forward, the F. A. N. Y. "

I dreaded the journey over, and, though the sea for some time past hadbeen as smooth as glass, quite a storm got up that evening. All theorderlies who had waited on me came in early next morning to bidgoodbye, and Captain C. Carried me out of my room and downstairs to thehall. I insisted on wearing my F. A. N. Y. Cap and tunic to look as ifnothing was the matter, and once more I was on a stretcher. A bouquet ofred roses arrived from the French doctor just before I was carried outof the hall, so that I left in style! It was an early start, for I wasto be on board at 7 a. M. , before the ship was loaded up from the train. Eva drove me down in her ambulance and absolutely crawled along, soanxious was she to avoid all bumps. One of the sisters came with me andwas to cross to Dover as well (since the Boche had not even respectedhospital ships, sisters only went over with special cases). 

It struck me as odd that all the trees were out; they were only in budwhen I last saw them. 

Many of the French people we passed waved adieu, and I saw themexplaining to their friends in pantomime just what had happened. On theway to the ship I lost my leg at least four times over!

The French Battery had been told I was leaving, and was out in fullforce, and I stopped to say goodbye and thank them for all they had doneand once again wave farewell--so different from the last time! They weredeeply moved, and followed with the doctor to the quay where they stoodin a row wiping their eyes. I almost felt as if I was at my ownfuneral!

The old stretcher-bearers were so anxious not to bump me that they wereclumsier in their nervousness than I had ever seen them! As I was pulledout I saw that many of my friends, English, French, and Belgian, hadcome down to give me a send off. They stood in absolute silence, andagain I felt as if I was at my own funeral. As I was borne down thegangway into the ship I could bear it no longer, and pulled off my capand waved it in farewell. It seemed to break the spell, and they allcalled out "Goodbye, good luck!" as I was borne round the corner out ofsight to the little cabin allotted me. 

Several of them came on board after, which cheered me tremendously. Iwas very keen to have Eva with me as far as Dover, but, unfortunately, official permission had been refused. The captain of the ship, however, was a tremendous sportsman and said: "Of course, if my ship starts andyou are carried off by mistake, Miss Money, you can't expect me to putback into port again, and _I_ shan't have seen you, " he added with atwinkle in his eye as he left us. You may be sure Eva was just too lateto land! He came along when we were under way and feigned intensesurprise. As a matter of fact he was tremendously bucked and said sincehis ship had been painted grey instead of white and he had been given agun he was no longer a "hospital, " but a "wounded transport, " andtherefore was within the letter of the law to take a passenger if hewanted to. The cabin was on deck and had been decorated with flowers inevery available space. The crossing, as luck would have it, was fairlyrough, and one by one the vases were pitched out of their stands on tothe floor. It was a tremendous comfort to me to have old Eva there. Ofcourse it leaked out as these things will, and there was even thequestion of quite a serious row over it, but as the captain and everyoneelse responsible had "positively not seen her, " there was no one toswear she had not overstayed her time and been carried off by mistake!At Dover I had to say goodbye to her, the sister, and the kindlycaptain, and very lonely I felt as my stretcher was placed on a trolleyarrangement and I was pushed up to the platform along an asphaltgangway. The orderlies kept calling me "Sir, " which was amusing. "Yourkit is in the front van, sir, " and catching sight of my face, "Imean--er--Miss, Gor'blimee! well, that's the limit!" and words failedthem. 

I was put into a ward on the train all by myself. I didn't care for thattrain much, it stopped and started with such jolts, otherwise it wasquite comfy, and all the orderlies came in and out on fictitious errandsto have a look and try and get me anything I wanted. The consequence wasI had no less than three teas, two lots of strawberries, and a pile ofbooks and periodicals I could never hope to read! I had had lunch onboard when we arrived at one o'clock, before I was taken off. Thereason the journey took so long was that the loading and unloading ofstretchers from ship to train is a lengthy job and cannot be hustled. Wegot to London about five. The E. M. O. Was a cheery soul and came andshook hands with me, and then, joy of joys, got four stretcher-bearersto take me to an ambulance. With four to carry you there is not theslightest movement, but with two there is the inevitable up and downjog; only those who have been through it will know what I mean. I hadgot Eva to wire to some friends, also to Thompson, the section leaderwho was on leave, and by dint of Sherlock Holmes stunts they haddiscovered at what station I was arriving. It was cheering to see somefamiliar faces, but the ambulance only stopped for a moment, and therewas no time to say anything. 

As I was driven out of the station--it was Charing Cross--the old flowerwomen were loud in their exclamations. "Why, it's a dear little girl!"cried one, and she bombarded Thompson with questions. (I felt thecomplete fool!) "Bin drivin' the boys, 'as she? Bless 'er, " and they ranafter the car, throwing in whole bunches of roses galore! I could havehugged them for it, dear fat old things! They did their bit as much asany of them, and never failed to throw their choicest roses to "theboys" in the ambulances as they were driven slowly past. 

My troubles, I am sorry to say, began from then onwards. England seemedquite unprepared for anything so unorthodox, and the general impressionborne in on me was that I was a complete nuisance. There was norecognized hospital for "the likes of us" to go to, and I was taken to acivilian one where war-work seemed entirely at a discount. I was carriedto a lift and jerked up to the top floor by a housemaid, when I was puton a trolley and taken into a ward full of people. A sister cameforward, but there was no smile on her face and not one word of welcome, and I began to feel rather chilled. "Put the case there, " she said, indicating an empty bed, and the "case, " feeling utterly miserable anddejected, was deposited! The rattle and noise of that ward was such acontrast to my quiet little room in France (rather humorous this) that Iwoke with a jump whenever I closed my eyes. 

Presently the matron made her rounds, and very luckily found there was avacant room, and I was taken into it forthwith. There was a noticepainted on the wall opposite to the effect that the bed was "given inremembrance" of the late so-and-so of so-and-so--with date and year ofdeath, etc. I can see it now. If only it had been on the door outsidefor the benefit of the visitors! It had the result of driving "the case"almost to the verge of insanity. I could say the whole thing backwardswhen I'd been in the room half an hour, not to mention the number ofletters and the different words one could make out of it! There was noother picture in the room, as the walls were of some concrete stuff, so, try as one would, it was impossible not to look at it. "Did he die inthis bed?" I asked interestedly of the sister, nodding in the directionof the "In Memoriam. "--"I'm sure I don't know, " said she, eyeing mesuspiciously. "We have enough to do without bothering about things likethat, " and she left the room. I began to feel terribly lonely; how Imissed all my friends and the cheerful, jolly orderlies in France! Thefrowsy housemaid who brought up my meals was anything but inspiring. Mydear little "helpless" shirt was taken away and when I was given a goodstuff nightdress in its place, I felt my last link with France had gone!

The weather--it was July then--got terribly hot, and I lay andsweltered. It was some relief to have all bandages removed from my rightleg. 

There were mews somewhere in the vicinity, and I could smell the horsesand even hear them champing in their stalls! I loved that, and would liewith my eyes shut, drinking it in, imagining I was back in the stablesin far away Cumberland, sitting on the old corn bin listening to JimmyJardine's wonderful tales of how the horses "came back" to him in thelong ago days of his youth. When they cleaned out the stables I had mywindow pulled right up! "Fair sick it makes me, " called my neighbourfrom the next room, but I was quite happy. Obviously everyone can't besatisfied in this world!

The doctor was of the "bluff and hearty" species and, on entering thefirst morning, had exclaimed, in a hail-fellow-well-met tone, "So you'rethe young lady who's had her leg chopped off, are you? ha, ha!" Hardlywhat one might call tactful, what? I withdrew my hand and put it behindmy back. In time though we became fairly good friends, but how I longedto be back in France again!

Being a civilian hospital they were short-staffed. "Everyone seems madon war work, " said one sister to me peevishly, "they seem to forgetthere are civilians to nurse, " and she flounced out of the room. 

A splendid diversion was caused one day when the Huns came over in fullforce (thirty to forty Gothas) in a daylight raid. I was delighted! Thiswas something I really _did_ understand. It was topping to hear the gunsblazing away once more. Everyone in the place seemed to be ringing theirelectric bells, and, afraid I might miss something, I put my finger onmine and held it there. Presently the matron appeared: "You can't betaken to the cellar, " she said, "it's no good being nervous, you're assafe here as anywhere!" "It wasn't that, " I said, "I wondered if I mighthave a wheel chair and go along the corridor to see them. " "Rubbish, "said she, "I never heard of such a thing, " and she hurried on to quietthe patient in the next room. But by dint of screwing myself half on toa chair near the window I did just get a glimpse of the sky and sawabout five of the Huns manoeuvring. Good business!

One of the things I suffered from most, was visitors whom I had neverseen in my life before. There would be a tap at the door; enter lady, beautifully dressed and a large smile. The opening sentence wasinvariably the same. "You won't know who I am, but I'm Lady L----, Missso-and-so's third cousin. She told me all about you, and I thought Ireally _must_ come and have a peep. " Enters and subsides into chair nearbed smiling sweetly, and in nine cases out of ten jiggles toes againstit, which jars one excessively. "You must have suffered _terribly_! Ihear your leg was absolutely _crushed_! And now tell me all about it!Makes you rather sick to talk of it? Fancy that! Conscious all the time, dear me! What you must have gone _through_! (Leg gives one of itsjumps. ) Whatever was that? Only keeping your knee from getting stiff, how funny! _Lovely_ having the _Croix de Guerre_. Quite makes up for it. What? Rather have your _leg_. Dear me, how odd! Wonderful what they dowith those artificial limbs nowadays. Know a man and really you can'ttell _which_ is which. (Naturally not, any fool could make a leg theshape of the other!) Well, I really _must_ be going. I shall be able totell all my friends I've _seen_ you now and been able to cheer you up alittle. _Poor_ girl! _So_ unfortunate! Terribly cheerful, aren't you?Don't seem to mind a bit. Would you kindly ring for the lift? I findthese stairs _so trying_. I've enjoyed myself so much. Goodbye. " Exit(goodby-ee). In its way it was amusing at first, but one day I sent forthe small porter, Tommy, aged twelve (I had begun to sympathise withthe animals in the Zoo). "Tommy, " I said, "if you _dare_ to let anyonecome up and see me unless they're _personal_ friends, you won't get thatshell head I promised you. Don't be put off, make them describe me. You'll be sorry if you don't. "

Tremendous excitement one day when I went out for my first drive in acar sent from the Transport Department of the Red Cross. Two of thenurses came with me, and I was lifted in by the stalwart driver. "Aquiet drive round the park, I suppose, Miss?" he asked. "No, " I saidfirmly, "down Bond Street and then round and round Piccadilly Circusfirst, and then the Row to watch the people riding" (an extremelyentertaining pastime). He had been in the Argentine and "knew a horse ifhe saw one, " and no mistake. 

The next day a huge gilded basket of blue hydrangeas arrived from the"bird" flower shop in Bond Street, standing at least three feet high, the sole inscription on the card being, "From the Red Cross driver. " Itwas lovely and I was extremely touched; my room for the time being wastransformed. 

I was promised a drive once a week, but they were unfortunatelysuspended as I had an operation on July 31st for the jumping sciaticnerve and once more was reduced to lying flat on my back. There was aman over the mews who beat his wife regularly twice per week, or else_she_ beat him. I could never discover which, and used to lie staringinto the darkness listening to the "sounds of revelry by night, " not tomention the choicest flow of language floating up into the air. I wasmeasured for a pair of crutches some time later by a lugubriousindividual in a long black frock coat looking like an undertaker. Iobjected to the way he treated me, as if I were already a "stiff, "ignoring me completely, saying to the nurse: "Kindly put the caseabsolutely flat and full length, " whereupon he solemnly produced a tapemeasure!

I was moved to a nursing home for the month of August, as the hospitalclosed for cleaning, and there, quite forgetting to instruct the peopleabout strangers, I was beset by another one afternoon. A cousin who hasbeen gassed and shell-shocked had come in to read to me. There was a tapon the door. "Mrs. Fierce, " announced the porter, and in sailed a ladywhom I had never seen in my life before. (I want the readers of these"glimpses" to know that the following conversation is absolutely as ittook place and has not been exaggerated or added to in the very least. )

She began with the old formula. "You won't know me, etc. , but I'mso-and-so. " She did not pause for breath, but went straight ahead. "It'sthe second time I've been to call on you, " she said, in an aggrievedvoice. "I came three weeks ago when you were at ---- Hospital. You had_just_ had an operation and were coming round, and would you believe it, though I had come _all_ the way from West Kensington, they wouldn't letme come up and see you--positively _rude_ the boy was at the door. " (Iuttered a wordless prayer for Tommy!)

"It was very kind of you, " I murmured, "but I hardly think you wouldhave liked to see me just then; I wasn't looking my best. Chloroform hasbecome one of my _bêtes noires_. " "Oh, I shouldn't have minded, " saidthe lady; "I thought it was so inconsiderate of them not to let me up. So sad for you, you lost your _foot_, " she chattered on, eyeing thecradle with interest. I winked at my cousin, a low habit but excusableon occasions. We did not enlighten her it was more than the foot. Then Iwas put through the usual inquisition, except that it was if possible alittle more realistic than usual. "Did it bleed?" she asked with gusto. I began to enjoy myself (one gets hardened in time). "Fountains, " Ireplied, "the ground is still discoloured, and though they have dug itover several times it's no good--it's like Rizzio's blood at Holyrood, the stain simply won't go away!" My cousin hastily sneezed. "How verycurious, " said the lady, "so interesting to hear all these details_first_ hand! Young man, " and she fixed Eric with her lorgnettes, "have_you_ been wounded--I see _no_ stripe on your arm?" and she eyed himseverely. Now E. Has always had a bit of a stammer, but at times itbecomes markedly worse. We were both enjoying ourselves tremendously:"N-n-n-no, " he replied, "s-s-s-shell s-s-s-shock!"

"Dear me, however did _that_ happen?" she asked. "I w-w-was b-b-b-blowni-i-i-into t-t-t-the air, " he replied, smiling sweetly. 

"How high?" asked the lady, determined to get to the bottom of it, andnot at all sure in her own mind he wasn't a conscientious objectormasquerading in uniform. "As all t-t-the other m-m-men were k-k-killedb-b-b-by t-t-t-the same s-s-shell, t-t-there was n-n-no one t-t-theret-t-t-to c-c-c-count, " he replied modestly. (I knew the whole story ofhow he had been left for two whole days in No-man's-land, with Bocheshells dropping round the place where he was lying, and could havekilled her cheerfully if the whole thing had not been so funny. )

Having gleaned more lurid details with which we all too willinglysupplied her, she finally departed. 

"Fierce by name and fierce by nature, " I said, as the door closed. "Iwonder sometimes if those women spend all their time rushing from bed tobed asking the men to describe all they've been through--I feel likewriting to _John Bull_ about it, " I added, "but I don't believe theaverage person would believe it. Tact seems to be a word unknown in somevocabularies. " The cream of the whole thing was that, not content withthe information she had gleaned, when she got downstairs, she asked tosee my nurse. The poor thing was having tea at the time, but wentrunning down in case it was something important. 

"Will you tell me, " said Mrs. F. Confidentially, "if that young man isengaged to Miss B. ?" (The "young man, " I might add, has a very charmingfiancée of his own), and how we all laughed when she came up with thenews!

The faithful "Wuzzy" had been confided to the care of a friend at theRemount Camp, and I was delighted to get some snaps of him taken by aFrenchman at Neuve-Chapelle--I felt my "idiot son" was certainly seeinglife! "In reply to your question" (said my friend in a letter), "as towhether I have discovered Wuzzy's particular 'trait' yet, the answer asfar as I can make out appears to be 'chickens'!"

In time I began to get about on crutches, and the question next arosewhere I was to go and convalesce, and the then strange, but now all toofamiliar phrase was first heard. "If you were only a man, of course itwould be _so_ easy. " As if it was _my_ fault I wasn't? It was no goodprotesting I had always wished I had been one; it did not help mattersat all. 

I came to the conclusion there were too many women in England. If I hadonly been a Boche girl now I might at least have had several DonningtonHalls put at my disposal! I was finally sent to Brighton, and thanks toLady Dudley's kindness, became an out-patient of one of her officers'hospitals, but even then it was a nuisance being a girl. Anotherdisadvantage was that all the people treated me as if I was a strangeanimal from the Zoo; men on crutches had become unfortunately a toofamiliar sight, but a F. A. N. Y. Was something quite new, and therefore anobject to be stared at. Some days I felt quite brazen, but others I wentout for about five minutes and returned, refusing to move for the restof the day. It would have been quite different if several F. A. N. Y. S hadbeen in a similar plight, but alone, one gets tired of being gaped at asa _rara avis_. 

The race meetings were welcome events and great sport, to which we allwent with gusto. I fell down one day on the Parade, getting into my bathchair. It gave me quite a jar, but it must be got over some time as alesson, for of course I put out the leg that wasn't there and went smackon the asphalt! One learns in time to remember these details. 

It was ripping to see friends from France who ran down for the day, andwhen the F. A. N. Y. S came over, how eagerly I listened to all the news!The lines from one of our songs often rang through my brain:

 "On the sandy shores of France Looking Blighty-wards to sea, There's a little camp a-sitting And it's all the world to me-- For the cars are gently humming, And the 'phone bell's ringing yet, Come up, you British Convoy, Come ye up to Fontinettes-- On the road to Fontinettes Where the trains have to be met; Can't you hear the cars a-chunking Through the Rue to Fontinettes?

 "On the road to Fontinettes Where the stretcher-bearers sweat, And the cars come up in convoy, From the camp to Fontinettes. 

 "For 'er uniform is khaki, And 'er little car is green, And 'er name is only FANNY (And she's not exactly clean!) And I see'd 'er first a'smoking Of a ration cigarette. And a'wasting army petrol Cleaning clothes, 'cos she's in debt. " On the road to Fontinettes, etc. 

I longed to be back so much sometimes that it amounted almost to anache! This, and the fact of being the only one, I feel sure partlyaccounted for it that I became ill. According to the doctor I ought tohave been in a proper hospital, and then once again the difficulty aroseof finding one to go to. Boards and committees sat on me figurativelyand almost literally, too, but could come to no conclusion. Though Icould be in a military hospital in France it was somehow not to bethought of in England. Finally I heard a W. A. A. C. 's ward had been openedin London at a military hospital run by women doctors for Tommies, and Ipromptly sat down and applied for admittance. Yes, I could go there, andso at the end of November, I found myself once more back in London. Iwas in a little room--a W. A. A. C. Officers' ward, on the same floor asthe medical ward for W. A. A. C. Privates. I met them at the concerts thatwere often given in the recreation room, and they were extremely kindto me. I was amused to hear them discussing their length of activeservice. One who could boast of six months was decidedly the nut of theparty! We had a great many air raids, and were made to go down to theground floor, which annoyed me intensely. I hated turning out, apartfrom the cold; it seemed to be giving in to the Boche to a certainextent. 

I loved my charlady. She was the nearest approach to the cheeryorderlies of those far away days in France, I had struck since I cameover. Her smiling face, as she appeared at the door every morning withbroom and coalscuttle, was a tonic in itself. I used to keep her talkingjust as long as I could--she was so exceedingly alive. 

"Do I mind the air rides, Miss? Lor' bless you no--nothin' I like betterthan to 'ear the guns bangin' awy. If it wasn't for the childer I'd fairenjoy it--we lives up 'hIslington wy, and the first sounds of firing Iwrep them up, and we all goes to the church cryp and sings 'ims with theparson's wife a'plying. Grand it is, almost as good as a revivalmeeting!"

(One in the eye for Fritz what?)

I asked her, as it was getting near Christmas, if she would let me takeher two little girls (eight and twelve respectively) to see a children'sfairy play. She was delighted. They had never been to a theatre at all, and were waiting for me one afternoon outside the hospital gates, veryclean and smiling, and absolutely dancing with excitement. I was ofcourse on crutches, and as it was a greasy, slippery day, looked aboutfor a taxi. It was hopeless, and without a word the elder child ran offto get one. The way she nipped in and out of the traffic was positivelyterrifying, but she returned triumphant in the short space of fiveminutes, and we were soon at the door of the theatre. 

I had to explain that the wicked fairies leaping so realistically fromPandora's box weren't real at all, but I'm sure I did not convince thesmaller one, who was far too shy and excited to utter a word beyond astartled whisper: "Yes, Miss, " or "No, Miss. " There were wails in theaudience when the witch appeared, and several small boys near us doubledunder their seats in terror, like little rabbits going to earth, refusing to come out again, poor little pets!

In the interval the two children watched the orchestra with wide-eyedinterest. "I guess that guy wot's wyving 'is arms abaht like that(indicating the conductor) must be getting pretty tired, " said the elderto me. I felt he would have been gratified to know there was someone whosympathised!

Altogether it was a most entertaining afternoon, and when we came out inthe dark and rain the eldest again slipped off to get a taxi, dodgingcabs and horses with the dexterity of an acrobat. 

Christmas came round, and there was tremendous competition between thedifferent wards, which vied with each other over the most originaldecorations. 

At midday I was asked into the W. A. A. C. 's ward, where we had roast beefand plum pudding. The two women doctors who ran the hospital visitedevery ward and drank a toast after lunch. I don't know what they toastedin the men's wards, but in the W. A. A. C. 's it was roughly, "To the womenof England, and the W. A. A. C. S who would win the war, etc. " It seemed toobad to leave out the men who were in the trenches, so I drank oneprivately to them on my own. 

As I sat in my little ward that night I thought of the happy times wehad had last Christmas in the convoy, only a short year before. 

CHAPTER XVIII

ROEHAMPTON: "BOB" THE GREY, AND THE ARMISTICE

After Christmas it was thought I was well enough to be fitted with anartificial limb, and in due course I applied to the limbless hospital atRoehampton. The reply came back in a few days. 

 "DEAR SIR, (I groaned), "You must apply to so-and-so and we will then be able to give you a bed in a fortnight's time, etc. 

 _Signed_: "SISTER D. "

My heart sank. I was up against the old question again, and indesperation I wrote back:

 "DEAR MADAM, "My trouble is that I am a girl, etc. "

and poured forth all my woes on the subject. Sister D. , who proved to bean absolute topper, was considerably amused and wrote back mostsympathetically. She promised to do all she could for me and told thesurgeon the whole story, and it was arranged for him to see me andadvise what type of leg I had better wear and then decide where I was tobe put up later. He was most kind, but I returned from the interviewconsiderably depressed for, before I could wear an artificial leg, another operation had to be performed. It took place at the militaryhospital in January and I felt I should have to hurry in order to be"doing everything as usual" by the time the year was up, as Captain C. Had promised. 

For some reason, when I came round I found myself in the big W. A. A. C. S'ward, and never returned to my little room again. I did not mind thechange so much except for the noise and the way the whole room vibratedwhenever anyone walked or ran past my bed. They nearly always did thelatter, for they were none of them very ill. The building was an oldworkhouse which had been condemned just before the war, and the floorbent and shook at the least step. I found this particularly trying asthe incision a good six inches long had been made just behind my knee, and naturally, as it rested on a pillow, I felt each vibration. 

The sheets were hard to the touch and grey in colour even when clean, and the rows of scarlet blankets were peculiarly blinding. I realisedthe meaning of the saying: "A red rag to a bull, " and had every sympathywith the animal! (It was so humorous to look at things from a patient'spoint of view. ) It had always been our ambition at Lamarck to have redtop blankets on every bed in our wards. "They make the place look sobright and cheerful!" I daresay these details would have passedunnoticed in the ordinary way, but I had already had eight months ofhospitals, during which time I had hardly ever been out of pain, and allI craved was quiet and rest. Some of the women doctors were terriblysarcastic. 

We were awakened at 5 a. M. As per hospital routine (how often I had beenloth to waken the patients at Lamarck), and most of the W. A. A. C. S got upand dressed, the ones who were not well enough remaining in bed. At sixo'clock we had breakfast, and one of them pushed a trolly containingslices of bread and mugs of tea from bed to bed. It rattled like apantechnicon and shook the whole place, and I hated it out of allproportion. The ward was swept as soon as breakfast was over. How Idreaded that performance! I lay clenching the sides of the bed inexpectation; for as surely as fate the sweeping W. A. A. C. Caught herbrush firmly in one of the legs. "Sorry, miss, did it ketch you?" shewould exclaim, "there, I done it agin; drat this broom!"

There were two other patients in the room who relished the quiet in theafternoons when most of the W. A. A. C. S went out on pass. One of them wasa sister from the hospital, and the other a girl suffering from cancer, both curtained off in distant corners. "Now for a sleep, sister, " Iwould call, as the last one departed, but as often as not just as wewere dropping off a voice would rouse us, saying: "Good afternoon, I'vejust come in to play the piano to you for a little, " and without waitingfor a reply a cheerful lady would sit down forthwith and bang awayvirtuously for an hour!

We had had a good many air raids before Christmas and I hoped Fritzwould reserve his efforts in that direction till I could go about oncrutches again. No such luck, however, for at 10 o'clock one night thewarnings rang out. I trusted, as I had had my operations so recently, Ishould be allowed to remain; but some shrapnel had pierced the roof ofthe ward in a former raid and everyone had to be taken down willy-nilly. I hid under the sheets, making myself as flat as possible in the hopesof escaping. I was discovered of course and lifted into a wheel chairand taken down in the lift to the Padre's room, where all the W. A. A. C. Swere already assembled. Our guns were blazing away quite heartily, the"London front" having recently been strengthened. Just as I got down, the back wheel of my chair collapsed, which was cheering!

We sat there for some time listening to the din. Everyone was feelingdistinctly peevish, and not a few slightly "breezy, " as it was quite abad raid. I wondered what could be done to liven up the proceedings, andpresently espied a pile of hymn-books which I solemnly handed out, choosing "Onward Christian Soldiers" as the liveliest selection! I couldnot help wondering what the distant F. A. N. Y. S would have thought of theeffort. In the middle of "Greenland's spicy mountains, " one W. A. A. C. Varied the proceedings by throwing a fit, and later on another fainted;beyond that nothing of any moment happened till the firing, punctuatedby the dropping bombs, became so loud that every other sound wasdrowned. Some of the W. A. A. C. S were convinced we were all "for it" andwould be burnt to death, but I assured them as my chair had broken, andI had no crutches even if I could use them, I should be burnt to acinder long before any of them! This seemed to comfort them to a certainextent. I could tell by the sound of the bombs as they exploded that theGothas could not be far away; and then, suddenly, we heard the enginesquite plainly, and there was a terrific rushing sound I knew only toowell. The crash came, but, though the walls rocked and the windowsrattled in their sockets, they did not fall. 

Above the din we heard a woman's piercing scream, "Oh God, I'm burning!"as she ran down the street. Simultaneously the reflection of a red glareplayed on the walls opposite. All was confusion outside, and the soundof rushing feet pierced by screams from injured women and childrenfilled the air. It was terrible to sit there powerless, unable to doanything to help. The hospital had just been missed by a miracle, butsome printing offices next door were in flames, and underneath was alarge concrete dug-out holding roughly 150 people. What the totalcasualties were I never heard. Luckily a ward had just been evacuatedthat evening and the wounded and dying were brought in immediately. Itwas horrible to see little children, torn and maimed, being carried pastour door into the ward. The hum of the Gotha's engines could still beheard quite distinctly. 

Sparks flew past the windows, but thanks to the firemen who were on thespot almost immediately, the fire was got under and did not spread tothe hospital. 

It was a terrible night! How I longed to be able to give the Huns ataste of their own medicine!

The "All clear" was not sounded till 3 a. M. Many of the injured diedbefore morning, after all that was humanly possible had been done forthem. I heard some days later that a discharged soldier, who had been inthe dug-out when the bomb fell, was nearly drowned by the floods ofwater from the hoses, and was subsequently brought round by artificialrespiration. He was heard to exclaim: "Humph, first they wounds me ahtin France, then they tries to drown me in a bloomin' air raid!"

There was one W. A. A. C. --Smith we will call her--who could easily havemade her fortune on the stage, she was so clever at imitations. Shewould "take you off" to your face and make you laugh in spite ofyourself. She was an East-ender and witty in the extreme, warm of heartbut exceedingly quick-tempered. I liked her tremendously, she was soutterly alive and genuine. 

One night I was awakened from a doze by a tremendous hubbub going on inthe ward. Raising myself on an elbow I saw Smith shaking one of theW. A. A. C. S, who was hanging on to a bed for support, as a terrier might arat. 

"You would, would you?" I heard her exclaim. "Sy it againe, yerwhite-ficed son of a gun yer!" and she shook her till her teethchattered. I never found out what the "white-ficed" one had said, butshe showed no signs of repeating the offence. I felt as if I was in thegallery at Drury Lane and wanted to shout, "Go on, 'it 'er, " but justrestrained myself in time!

A girl orderly was despatched in haste for one of the head doctors, andI awaited her arrival with interest, wondering just how she would dealwith the situation. 

However, the "Colonel" apparently thought discretion the better part ofvalour, and sent the Sergeant-Major--the only man on the staff--to copewith the delinquent. I was fearfully disappointed. Smith checkmated himsplendidly by retiring into the bath where she sat soaking for twohours. What was the poor man to do? It was getting late, and for all heknew she might elect to stay there all night. He knew of no precedentand ran in and out of the ward, flapping his arms in a helpless manner. I felt Smith had decidedly won the day. Imagine an ordinary privatebehaving thus!

There were sudden periodical evacuations of the ward, and one day I wastold my bed would be required for a more urgent case--a large convoy wasexpected from France and so many beds had to be vacated. Three weeksafter my operation I left the hospital and arranged to stay with friendsin the country. As it was a long railway journey and I was hardlyaccustomed to crutches again, I wanted to stay the night in town. However, one comes up against some extraordinary types of people. Forexample, the hotel where my aunt was staying refused to take me in, evenfor one night, on the score that "_they_ didn't want any invalids!" Icould not help wondering a little bitterly where these same people wouldhave been but for the many who were now permanent invalids and for thoseothers, as Kipling reminds us, "whose death has set us free. " I couldnot help noticing that at home one either came up against extremesympathy and kindness or else utter callousness--there seemed to be nohalf-measures. 

In March I again hoped to go to Roehampton, but my luck was dead out. Icould still bear no pressure on the wretched nerve, and anotheroperation was performed almost immediately. 

The W. A. A. C. S' ward was all very well as an experience, but the noiseand shaking, not to mention the thought of the broom catching my bedregularly every morning, was too much to face again. The surgeon who wasoperating tried to get me into his hospital for officers where therewere several single rooms vacant at the time. 

Vain hope. Again the familiar phrase rang out, and once more Iapologised for being a female, and was obliged to make arrangements toreturn to the private nursing home where I had been in August. The yearwas up, and here I was still having operations. I was disgusted in theextreme. 

When I was at last fit to go to Roehampton the question of accommodationagain arose. I never felt so sick in all my life I wasn't aman--committees and matrons sat and pondered the question. Obviously Iwas a terrible nuisance and no one wanted to take any responsibility. The mother superior of the Sacred Heart Convent at Roehampton heard ofit and asked me to stay there. Though I was not of their faith theywelcomed me as no one else had done since my return, and I wasexceedingly happy with them. It was a change to be really wantedsomewhere. 

In time I got fairly hardened to the stares from passers-by, and it wasno uncommon thing for an absolute stranger to come up and ask, "Have youlost your leg?" The fact seemed fairly obvious, but still some peoplelike verbal confirmation of everything. One day in Harrod's, just afterthe 1918 push, one florid but obviously sympathetic lady exclaimed, "Dear me, poor girl, did you lose your leg in the recent push?" It wasthen the month of June (some good going to be up on crutches in thattime!) Several staff officers were buying things at the same counter andturned at her question to hear my reply. "No, not in this _last_ push, "I said, "but the one just before, " and moved on. They appeared to beconsiderably amused. 

How I loathed crutches! One nightmare in which I often indulged wasthat I found, in spite of having lost my leg, I could really walk insome mysterious way quite well without them. I would set off joyfully, and then to my horror suddenly discover my plight and fall smack. I woketo find the nerve had been at its old trick again. Sometimes I wasseized with a panic that when I did get my leg I should not be able touse it, and worse still, never ride again. That did not bear thinkingof. 

I went to the hospital every day for fittings and at last the dayarrived when I walked along holding on to handrails on each side andwatching my "style" in a glass at the end of the room for the purpose. My excitement knew no bounds! It was a tedious business at first gettingit to fit absolutely without paining and took some time. I could hearthe men practising walking in the adjoining room to the refrain of the"Broken Doll, " the words being:

 "I only lost my leg a year ago. I've got a 'Rowley, ' now, I'd have you know. I soon learnt what pain was, I thought I knew, But now my poor old leg is black, and red, white and blue! The fitter said, 'You're walking very well, ' I told him he could take his leg to ----, But they tell me that some day I'll walk right away, By George! and with my Rowley too!"

It was at least comforting to know that in time one would!

Half an hour's fitting was enough to make the leg too tender foranything more that day, and I discovered to my joy that I was quitewell able to drive a small car with one foot. I was lent a sportingMorgan tri-car which did more to keep up my spirits than anything else. The side brake was broken and somehow never got repaired, so the onefoot had quite an exciting time. It was anything but safe, but it didnot matter. One day, driving down the Portsmouth Road with afellow-sufferer, a policeman waved his arms frantically in front of us. "What's happened, " I asked my friend, "are we supposed to stop?" "I'mafraid so, " he replied, "I should think we've been caught in a trap. "(One gets into bad habits in France!)

As we drew up and the policeman saw the crutches, he said: "I'm sorry, sir, I didn't see your crutches, or I wouldn't have pulled you up. " Thefriend, who happened to be wearing his leg, said, "Oh, they aren't mine, they belong to this lady. " The good policeman was temporarilyspeechless. When at last he got his wind he was full of concern. "Youdon't say, sir? Well, I _never_ did. Don't you take on, _we_ won't runyou in, Miss, " he added consolingly, turning to me. "I'll fix thestop-watch man. " I was beginning to enjoy myself immensely. He regardedus for some minutes and made a round of the car. "Well, " he said atlast, "_I_ call you a couple o' sports!" We were convulsed!

At that moment the stop-watch man hurried up, looking very serious, andI watched the expression on his face change to one of concern as thepoliceman told him the tale. 

"We won't run you in, not us, " he declared stoutly, in concert with thepoliceman. 

"What were we doing?" I asked, as he looked at his stop-watch. 

"Thirty and a fraction over, " he replied. "Only thirty!" I exclaimed, ina disappointed voice, "I thought we were doing _at least_ forty!"

"First time anyone's ever said that to _me_, Miss, " he said; "it's usualfor them to swear it wasn't a mile above twenty!"

"A couple o' sports, " the policeman murmured again. 

"I think _you're_ the couple of sports, " I said laughing. 

"Well, " said the stop-watch man, lifting his cap, "we won't keep you anylonger, Miss, a pleasant afternoon to you, and (with a knowing look)there's _nothing_ on the road from here to Cobham!"

Of course the Morgan broke all records after that!

Unfortunately, in July, I was obliged to undergo an operation on myright foot, where it had been injured. By great good luck it wasarranged to be done in the sister's sick ward at the hospital. It wasnot successful though, and at the end of August a second was performed, bringing the total up to six, by which time I loathed chloroform morethan anything else on earth. 

Before I returned to the convent again, the King and Queen with PrincessMary came down to inspect the hospital. 

It was an imposing picture. The sisters and nurses in their white capsand aprons lined the steps of the old red-brick, Georgian House, whileon the lawn six to seven hundred limbless Tommies were grouped, forminga wonderful picture in their hospital blue against the green. 

I was placed with the officers under the beautiful cedar trees and had asplendid view, while on the left the different limb makers had models oftheir legs and arms. The King and Queen were immensely interested andwatched several demonstrations, after which they came and shook each oneof us by hand, speaking a few words. I was immensely struck by theKing's voice and its deep resonant qualities. It is wonderful, in viewof the many thousands he interviews, that to each individual he givesthe impression of a real personal interest. 

I soon returned to the convent, and there in the beautiful gardensdiligently practised walking with the help of two sticks. The joy ofbeing able to get about again was such that I could have wept. TheTommies at the hospital took a tremendous interest in my progress. "Which one is it?" they would call as I went there each morning. "Pickit up, Miss, pick it up!" (one trails it at first). The fitter was a manof most wonderful patience and absolutely untiring in his efforts to doany little thing to ease the fitting. I often wonder he did not brainhis more fussy patients with their wooden legs and have done with it!

"Got your knee, Miss?" the men would call sometimes. "You're lucky. "When I saw men who had lost an arm and sometimes both legs, from abovethe knee too, I realised just how lucky I was. They were all sosplendidly cheerful. I knew too well from my own experience what theymust have gone through; and again I could only pray that something goodwould come out of all this untold suffering, and that these men wouldnot be forgotten by a grateful country when peace reigned once more. 

I often watched them playing bowls on the lawn with a marvellousdexterity--a one-armed man holding the chair steady for a doubleamputation while the latter took his aim. 

I remember seeing a man struggling painfully along with anabove-the-knee leg, obviously his first day out. A group of men watchedhis efforts. "Pick it up, Charlie!" they called, "we'll race you to thecedars!" but Charlie only smiled, not a bit offended, and patientlycontinued along the terrace. 

At last I was officially "passed out" by the surgeon, and after eighteenmonths was free from hospitals. What a relief! No longer anyone toreproach me because I wasn't a man! It was my great wish to go out tothe F. A. N. Y. S again when I had got thoroughly accustomed to my leg. Itried riding a bicycle, and after falling off once or twice "coped"quite well, but it was not till November that I had the chance to try ahorse. I was down at Broadstairs and soon discovered a job-master andarranged to go out the next day. I hardly slept at all that night I wasso excited at the prospect. The horse I had was a grey, rather acoincidence, and not at all unlike my beloved grey in France. Oh the joyof being in a saddle again! A lugubrious individual with a bottle nose(whom I promptly christened "Dundreary" because of his long whiskers)came out with me. He was by way of being a riding master, but for allthe attention he paid I might have been alone. 

I suggested finding a place for a canter after we had trotted somedistance and things felt all right. I was so excited to find I couldride again with comparatively little inconvenience I could hardlyrestrain myself from whooping aloud. I presently infected "Dundreary, "who, in his melancholy way, became quite jovial. I rode "Bob" every dayafter that and felt that after all life was worth living again. 

On November 11th came the news of the armistice. The flags andrejoicings in the town seemed to jar somehow. I was glad to be out ofLondon. A drizzle set in about noon and the waves beat against thecliffs in a steady boom not unlike the guns now silent across the water. Through the mist I seemed to see the ghosts of all I knew who had beensacrificed in the prime of their youth to the god of war. I saw thefaces of the men in the typhoid wards and heard again the groans as thewounded and dying were lifted from the ambulance trains on to thestretchers. It did not seem a time for loud rejoicings, but rather aquiet thankfulness that we had ended on the right side and their liveshad not been lost in vain. 

The words of Robert Nichols' "Fulfilment, " from _Ardours and Endurances_(Chatto & Windus), rang through my brain. He has kindly given mepermission to reproduce them:

 Was there love once? I have forgotten her. Was there grief once? Grief yet is mine. Other loves I have, men rough, but men who stir More grief, more joy, than love of thee and mine. 

 Faces cheerful, full of whimsical mirth, Lined by the wind, burned by the sun; Bodies enraptured by the abounding earth, As whose children we are brethren: one. 

 And any moment may descend hot death To shatter limbs! pulp, tear, blast Beloved soldiers, who love rough life and breath Not less for dying faithful to the last. 

 O the fading eyes, the grimed face turned bony, Open mouth gushing, fallen head, Lessening pressure of a hand shrunk, clammed, and stony O sudden spasm, release of the dead!

 Was there love once? I have forgotten her. Was there grief once? Grief yet is mine. O loved, living, dying, heroic soldier All, all, my joy, my grief, my love are thine!

CHAPTER XIX

AFTER TWO YEARS

My dream of going out to work again with the F. A. N. Y. S was neverrealised. Something always seemed to be going wrong with the leg; but Iwas determined to try and pay them a visit before they were demobilised. On these occasions the word "impossible" must be cut out of one'svocabulary (_vide_ Napoleon), and off I set one fine morning. Everythingseemed strangely unaltered, the same old train down to Folkestone, thesame porters there, the same old ship and lifebelts; and when I got toBoulogne nearly all the same old faces on the quay to meet the boat! Irubbed my eyes. Had I really been away two years or was it only a sortof lengthy nightmare? I walked down the gangway and there was the sameold rogue of a porter in his blue smocking. Yet the town seemedstrangely quiet without the incessant marching of feet as the troopscame and went. "We never thought to see _you_ out here again, Miss, "said the same man in the transport department at the Hotel Christol!

I went straight up to the convoy at St. Omer, and had tea in the campfrom which they had been shelled only a year before. This convoy ofF. A. N. Y. S, to which many of my old friends had been transferred, wasattached to the 2nd army, and had as its divisional sign a red herring. The explanation being that one day a certain general visited the camp, and on leaving said: "Oh, by the way, are you people 'army'?"

"No, " replied the F. A. N. Y. , "not exactly. "

"Red Cross then?"

"Well, not exactly. It's like this, " she explained: "We work for the RedCross and the cars are theirs, but we are attached to the second army;we draw our rations from the army and we're called F. A. N. Y. S. "

"'Pon my soul, " he cried, "you're neither fish, flesh, nor fowl, butyou're thundering good red herrings!"

It was a foregone conclusion that a red herring should become their signafter that!

The next day I was taken over the battlefields through Arcques, wherethe famous "Belle" still manipulates the bridge, and along by the NieppeForest. We could still see the trenches and dug-outs used in the fiercefighting there last year. A cemetery in a little clearing by the side ofthe road, the graves surmounted by plain wooden crosses, was the firstof many we were to pass. Vieux Berquin, a once pretty little village, was reduced to ruins and the road we followed was pitted with shellholes. 

It was pathetic to see an old man and his wife, bent almost double withage and rheumatism, poking about among the ruins of their one-time home, in the hope of finding something undestroyed. They were livingtemporarily in a miserable little shanty roofed in by pieces ofcorrugated iron, the remains of former Nissen huts and dug-outs. 

In Neuf Berquin several families were living in new wooden huts the sizeof Armstrongs with cheerful red-tiled roofs, that seemed if possible tointensify the utter desolation of the surroundings. 

Lusty youths, still in the _bleu horizon_ of the French Army, were busytilling the ground, which they had cleared of bricks and mortar, to makevegetable gardens. 

My chief impression was that France, now that the war was over, had madeup her mind to set to and get going again just as fast as she possiblycould. There was not an idle person to be seen, even the children werecollecting bricks and slates. 

I wondered how these families got supplies and, as if in answer to myunspoken question, a baker's cart full of fresh brown loaves camebumping and jolting down the uneven village street. 

Silhouetted against the sky behind him was the gaunt wall of theone-time church tower, its windows looking like the empty sockets of askull. 

Estaires was in no better condition, but here the inhabitants had comeback in numbers and were busy at the work of reconstruction. We passed"Grime Farm" and "Taffy Farm" on the way to Armentières, then through alittle place called Croix du Bac with notices printed on the walls ofthe village in German. It had once been their second line. 

In the distance Armentières gave me the impression of being almostuntouched, but on closer inspection the terrible part was that only themere shells of the houses were left standing. Bailleul was like a cityof the dead. I saw no returned inhabitants along its desolate streets. The Mont des Cats was on our left with the famous monastery at itssummit where Prince Rupprecht of Bavaria had been tended by the monkswhen lying wounded. In return for their kindness he gave orders that themonastery was to be spared, and so it was for some time. But whether herepented of his generosity or not I can't say. It must certainly havebeen badly shelled since, as its walls now testify. On our right wasKemmel with its pill-boxes making irregular bumps against the sky-line. One place was pointed out to me as being the site of a once famoustea-garden where a telescope had been installed, for visitors to viewthe surrounding country. 

We passed through St. Jans Capelle, Berthen, Boschepe, and so to thefrontier into Belgium. The first sight that greeted our eyes was Remysiding, a huge cemetery, one of the largest existing, where rows uponrows of wooden crosses stretched as far as the eye could see. 

We drove to Ypres via Poperinghe and Vlamertinge and saw the famous"Goldfish" Château on our left, which escaped being shelled, and wasthen gutted by an accidental fire!

I was surprised to see anything at all of the once beautiful Cloth Hall. We took some snaps of the remains. A lot of discoloured bones were lyingabout among the _débris_ disinterred from the cemetery by thebombardments. 

Heaps of powdered bricks were all that remained of many of the houses. The town gasometer had evidently been blown completely into the air, what was left of it was perched on its head in a drunken fashion. 

Beyond the gate of the town on the Menin Road stood a large unpaintedwooden shanty. I wondered what it could be and thought it was possibly aY. M. C. A. Hut. Imagine my surprise on closer inspection to see paintedover the door in large black letters "Ypriana Hotel"! It had been put upby an enterprising _Belge_. Somehow it seemed a desecration to see thischeap little building on that sacred spot. 

The Ypres-Menin Road stretched in front of us as far as the eye couldsee, disappearing into the horizon. On either hand was No-man's-land. Ihad seen wrecked villages on the Belgian front in 1915 and was more orless accustomed to the sight, but this was different. It was moreterrible than any ruins I had ever seen. For utter desolation I neverwant to behold anything worse. 

The ground was pock-marked with shell-holes and craters. Old tanks layembedded in the mud, their sides pierced by shot and shell, and worst ofall by far were the trees. Mere skeletons of trees standing gaunt andjagged, stripped naked of their bark; mute testimony of the horrors theyhad witnessed. Surely of all the lonely places of the earth this was byfar the worst? The ground looked lighter in some places than in others, where the powdered bricks alone showed where a village had once stood. There were those whose work it was to search for the scattered gravesand bring them in to one large cemetery. Just beyond "Hell-fire Corner"a padre was conducting a burial service over some such of these where acemetery had been formed. We next passed Birr Cross Roads with"Sanctuary Wood" on our left. Except that the lifeless trees seemed tobe more numerous, nothing was left to indicate a wood had ever beenthere. 

The more I saw the more I marvelled to think how the men could exist insuch a place and not go mad, yet we were seeing it under the most idealconditions with the fresh green grass shooting up to cover the uglyrents and scars. 

Many of the craters half-filled with water already had duckweed growing. Words are inadequate to express the horror and loneliness of that placewhich seemed peopled only by the ghosts of those "Beloved soldiers, wholove rough life and breath, not less for dying faithful to the last. "

We drove on to Hooge and turned near Geluvelt, making our way backsilently along that historic road which had been kept in repair by gangsof workmen whose job it was to fill in the shell holes as fast as theywere made. 

As we wound our way up the steep hill to Cassel with its narrow streetsand high, Spanish-looking houses, the sun was setting and the countrylay below us in a wonderful panorama. The cherry-trees bordering thesteep hill down the other side stood out like miniature snowstormsagainst the blue haze of the evening. We got back to find the Saturdayevening hop in progress (life still seemed to be formed of paradoxes). It was held in the mess hut, where the bumpy line down the middle of thefloor was appropriately called "Vimy Ridge, " and the place where theshell hole had been further up "Kennedy Crater. " The floor wasexceedingly springy just there, but it takes a good deal to "cramp thestyle" of a F. A. N. Y. , and details of this sort only add to the generalenjoyment. 

The next day I went down to the old convoy and saw my beloved "Susan"again, apparently not one whit the worse for the valiant war work shehad done. Everything looked exactly the same, and to complete thepicture, as I arrived, I saw two F. A. N. Y. S quietly snaffling some horsesfor a ride round the camp while their owners remained blissfullyunconscious in the mess. I felt things were indeed unchanged!

That evening I hunted out all my French friends. The old flower lady inthe Rue uttered a shriek, dropped her flowers, and embraced me again andagain. Then there was the _Pharmacie_ to visit, the paper man, thepretty flapper, Monsieur and Madame from the "Omelette" Shop, and a hostof others. I also saw the French general. For a moment he waspuzzled--obviously he "knew the face but couldn't put a name to it, "then his eye fell on the ribbon. "_Mon enfant_, " was all he said, andwithout any warning he opened his arms and I received a smacking kiss onboth cheeks! _Quel émotion!_ Everyone was so delighted, I felt theburden of the last two years slipping off my shoulders. 

Quite by chance I was put in my old original "cue. " I counted the doorsup the passage. Yes, it must be the one, there could be no doubt aboutit, and on looking up at the walls I could just discern the shadowyoutlines of the panthers through a new coating of colour-wash. 

The hospital where I had been was shut up and empty, and was shortlygoing to become a Casino again. How good it was to be back with theF. A. N. Y. S! I had just caught them in time, for they were to bedemobilised on the following Sunday and I began to realise, now that Iwas with them again, just how terribly I had missed their gaycompanionship. 

It was a singular and happy coincidence that on the second anniversaryof the day I lost my leg, I should be cantering over the same fields atPeuplinghe where "Flanders" had so gallantly pursued "puss" that day solong ago, or was it really only yesterday?

 FRANCE, _May 9th, 1919. _

 * * * * *

_Printed by Hazell, Watson & Viney, Ld. , London and Aylesbury, England. _

[Transcriber's Notes:The original text had no footnotes. I put markers in where the text waschanged in any way. 

Varied hyphenation retained. Obvious spelling and punctuation errorsrepaired and noted. 

[1] Space introduced in "everyone" to read "every one[1] of those men" Chapter II page 14

[2] Period added "one had done. " Chapter III page 25

[3] Position of opening parenthesis on this sentence surmised. ChapterVI page 47 "terms!)"

[4] Period added at end of paragraph Chapter VII on page 51 "patients. "

[5] Word changed from "a" to "as" Chapter VII on page 55 "he was as[5]black"

[6] Typo fixed "splendily" to "splendidly" Chapter VII page 56 "behavedsplendidly"

[7] Extraneous quotation mark removed from "_Mees anglaises_!" Chapter VII page 56

[8] Closing quote added Chapter IX page 78 "to vous plaît_, "[8] they"

[9] Typo fixed depôt changed to dépôt to match remainder of text ChapterIX page 85 "enlisting dépôt[9] who"

[10] Comma changed to a period Chapter X page 90 "places. [10] Up"

[11] F. A. N. Y. Work--space introduced to F. A. N. Y. Work Chapter X page 108

[12] Ending quotation mark added. Chapter XI page 122. "Blighter"!"

[13] Period inserted "at all. [13] As we" Chapter XIV page 182